Audience. Audience.
To convey meaning one must consider some things. These things, of which one considers for use in order to achieve the greatest effect, one must weigh, if nothing else, audience alone.
There is a singular nature to it. It is a thing of utmost importance. For this thing is, in fact, consisting of many things. People, of course being the things of which I speak. And so it is that with much vehemence and fervor that I implore you to consider the things most important in prose.
If we can agree that such things are the things behind, or the motivation for, the figurative spur in the proverbial horse, if you will, or the inspiration for the prose of which I previously spoke, then the persons gathered like vapor to the core of a cloud, prose, must, I mean, must BE the priority of the author.
Mind occasion. It is and must continue to be a relevant component for efficacy.
Consider this: if one were to stand upon a stage and produce not a commencement speech, for which one were hired, elected, or otherwise chosen, but rather a dull, gleam-less, lackluster oration that’s redundancies pronounce themselves clearly to the astonished parents and sleeping relatives of impatient graduates, one would find himself or herself (if one were so politically inclined as to make certain the omission of discrimination, of course), caring not for the occasion or the audience.
In this manner a writer, or speaker, for that matter, would be ineffective.
There is something to be said for efficiency. However, I find that curtness takes too much effort to accomplish. It could be argued that tight writing grants not the reader much respect.
Allowing the mind to flow without hindrance, to waver not in the winds cast by a flustered professor or his or her bored pupils (the winds being the impatient sighs and complaints ushered by such prose as this), is a gift from the artist, the author, to the eyes, the reader.
Take care in mining purpose from your hills of thought. I sometimes use a technique, a technique utilized by only minds intent on growing into great minds. One, such as myself, may pose to myself, questions. “Questions?” you question. “Questions,” I say.
Of the like: “What, in this prose, is my purpose? What, from this prose should one draw? Who, in this prose must I address?” And most importantly, “About it, how must I go?”
These, you say, as you should, are proper and valid. The validity of which I will not expound upon, but will, instead, highlight with this line.
I gift you tools. I offer advice, sound, I think. I put forward for you an outline. I hand down the wisdom of ages to such listeners as you who listen; who listen intently to the words that clarify the words boggled and cluttered by “efficient” writers and their improper ways.
Ostentatious authors who propound false methods of efficacy and dim the minds of the budding adolescence for which these very words were written.
Remember, my friends, your audience. Without them you are not even ink.
