Why There Are More Writers Than Readers
“Writing is a form of self-display. Self-display of any sort appears to raise the level of dopamine in the brain, much as does the ingestion of food, the acquisition of money or a sexual act.” Sanford Rose
Dolors & Sense
by Sanford Rose
KISSIMMEE Florida—(Weekly Hubris)—5/14/2012—It’s the fault of the mesolimbic system.
That’s the part of the brain that controls the transport of dopamine—the feel-good neurotransmitter.
Writing is a form of self-display.
Self-display of any sort appears to raise the level of dopamine in the brain, much as does the ingestion of food, the acquisition of money or a sexual act.
So writing is bit like having sex. And, arguably, the completion of what one considers a good piece of writing is tantamount to orgasm, which will be the more profound the greater is the number who are perceived to have witnessed (shared, or experienced, etc.) it.
Reading, on the other hand, is not an unalloyingly pleasurable activity. It involves a cost in time and effort of concentration. Often, the time is retrospectively judged to be ill-spent.
If the writer feels a rush akin to orgasm on completing what is judged to be a good piece, the reader of same often can be pardoned for entertaining the sensation of having been raped.
A succession of such experiences undoubtedly creates a wariness in prospective readers by activating their serotonin systems.
Unlike dopamine, serotonin focuses less on rewards and more on costs and consequences.
Gamblers thrive on dopamine; serotonin is the province of neurotics.
Dopamine argues: “All in.” Serotonin counsels: “Stay out.”
The serotonin systems of the overwhelming majority of prospective readers have been conditioned to regard the self-display of most writers as profitless posturings.
Conscious of the disabilities under which they labor, writers attempt to entrap readers with ever more suggestive “leads” or “ledes.” To little avail, in most cases.
Inevitably, therefore, the supply of writing will continue to exceed its demand at current prices, which are already approaching zero.
Indeed, a recent study suggests that the dopamine rush from self-expression exceeds that from money accumulation: in brain games, people are willing to surrender a large portion of their winnings from answering objective questions in order to be allowed to continue talking about themselves.
Writers are a little like Woody Allen who, when asked how much he earned as a bouncer in a house of ill repute, gave a preposterously low figure. That little, queried Peter O’Toole. It’s all I can afford, rejoined Woody.
Sanford Rose
Sanford Rose, of New Jersey and Florida, served as Associate Editor of Fortune Magazine from 1968 till 1972; Vice President of Chase Manhattan Bank in 1972; Senior Editor of Fortune between 1972 and 1979; and Associate Editor, Financial Editor and Senior Columnist of American Banker newspaper between 1979 and 1991. From 1991 till 2001, Rose worked as a consultant in the banking industry and a professional ghost writer in the field of finance. He has also taught as an adjunct professor of banking at Columbia University and an adjunct instructor of economics at New York University. He states that he left gainful employment in 2001 to concentrate on gain-less investing. (A lifelong photo-phobe, Rose also claims that the head shot accompanying his Weekly Hubris columns is not his own, but belongs, instead, to a skilled woodworker residing in South Carolina.)
6 Comments
eboleman-herring
Sanford, intriguing. Though I, a writer of some 55 years’ standing (sitting?) would compare ALL the creative acts of homo sapiens more closely to human toddlers’ offerings-into-their-diapers. Typically, for me, “post coitum omne animal triste est, sive gallus et mulier” notwithstanding, I write, and then, instead of relief, I experience only regret, loss. PET scans are obviously in order. Nicely written piece, as usual, though, whatever it represents for its author.
Skip
I can’t speak for the mulier, but the gallus feels great having written, not so much while writing. But the question is: what is it called if one pays another to publish one’s scribblings?
srose
Skip:
I read your stuff: You’re worth paying for, but I love and cherish verbal facility. How many of us are left?
Best
Sanford
Anita Sullivan
Sanford,
I loved this! I would argue that reading poetry can be a blissful experience, definitely on the dopamine side of the spectrum. Every time I read (for a quick example) “The Encyclopedia of the Stones” by James Richardson I sparkle from the inside and out with pure pleasure. Reading your column was a happy experience too.
Anita
srose
Anita:
Much appreciate your comment and the truths it contains. I should say that, as a writer of predominantly economic and business material, my chief ancillary reason for writing is to get things straight for myself. Unless I can explain things in print, I can’t really understand or internalize the material.
Thank you
Sanford
eboleman-herring
Skip, Sanford, Anita: very few of us are left, and the one who began this -zine is too poor to carry the entire load. She chafes, however, at her writers’ great willingness to go silent into that not-good night, when ALL of them have the pennies needed to make their voices heard. Even in London, those who “would speak” must pay the bus fare to reach Hyde Park and walk the distance to Speakers’ Corner. Megaphones have never come free, and advertisers–which one fellow publisher suggested I court–no longer exist for the sort of writing WE do. No, we’re on our own; or, rather, I’m on my own, and I am grateful for such beings-with-wings as Sanford Rose, for reasons into which I will not go, as they would only serve to embarrass him. Gratias ago, Sanford, Elizabeth