
You want to write. You want your words to matter. But what the hell does any of it mean when you’re staring down the barrel of a blank page?
You’ve got dreams of writing the next great novel, but all you’ve got is a half-empty bottle and a brain filled with the kind of self-doubt that could suffocate a small city.
And then you wonder: Can philosophy help me with this? I mean, I don’t want to sound like some smug, cardigan-wearing intellectual, but maybe there’s something to this whole philosophy thing.
Maybe it’ll help me sort through this mess inside my skull and turn it into something worth reading.
Let me tell you something.
Philosophy is the devil’s tool for thinkers who want to stop wasting time and start putting their ideas to work. It’s not the kind of writing you’ll find in the glossy pages of magazines, but it’s the kind of writing that keeps you up at night, ripping your soul out one thought at a time.
The Search for Meaning
Writing is an existential crisis dressed up in the form of a word processor.
Seriously. You sit down, and your fingers hover over the keyboard like some lost traveler in the desert, unsure if the words you’re about to write are even worth the effort.
It’s not just about writing a story—it’s about confronting the gaping void. The great nothingness that stares back at you when you’re faced with a blank page. And believe me, I’ve stared into that void long enough to know: it doesn’t blink.
Here’s where philosophy slides in like a shady character from a noir film.
Philosophy gives you the tools to grab that void by the throat, slap it around a bit, and drag it into your narrative.
Let me put it this way: you’re not writing about just a guy who’s having a bad day. No. You’re writing about what happens when everything you thought had meaning—your relationships, your job, your damn existence—suddenly crumbles into dust.
That’s what philosophy does. It gets into the guts of human existence and makes you look at it like it’s some kind of diseased animal you need to dissect.
Take a look at Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground—this guy was deep in the muck of nihilism.
He was disgusted by the world and, if we’re honest, he was disgusted by himself. But he wrote. And what he wrote wasn’t just some casual musings on a crappy day—it was a confrontation with the very fabric of reality.
Writing isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s for those of us who are bold enough to say, Yeah, life is a sick joke, but I’m going to laugh my way through it and make it my own.
Philosophy helps you do that. It’s like finding a screwdriver in a toolbox of hammers. It gives you a whole new set of tools to make your writing mean something—or nothing at all.
And let me tell you, that’s a power all on its own.
Critical Thinking: More Than Just a Buzzword
You’ve heard the phrase critical thinking thrown around like a buzzword at every dull corporate seminar or university lecture.
But what does it really mean when you’re a writer trying to make sense of the chaos that is life?
Philosophy doesn’t just help you think—it forces you to question everything. What’s the purpose of this character? Why does this scene matter? What am I really saying here?
These aren’t just questions for a philosophy paper. They’re questions for writing. If you’ve ever sat down and thought, I have no idea where this story is going, then you know what I’m talking about.
Philosophy is the intellectual equivalent of getting hit over the head with a two-by-four, waking up, and realizing you’re living in a dream, but it’s a dream worth writing about.
Writing isn’t just about spinning tales; it’s about building arguments. It’s about taking a reader from point A to point B and making them believe that the journey matters.
Why should they care? Well, philosophy gives you the ability to dig deeper and find the motivation for every character, every scene, and every plot twist.
What Nietzsche did with his philosophy is what you can do with your writing. He asked big questions and then followed those questions to places no one wanted to go.
That’s what your writing needs to do. Not just scratch the surface. No, you need to dig into the dirty soil of human existence and pull out something ugly and real.
Let’s break it down into a simple table:
Philosophical Skill | Writing Skill |
---|---|
Questioning Assumptions | Building Characters Who Challenge Their Own Beliefs |
Logical Structuring | Organizing Complex Plots and Themes |
Abstract Thought | Creating Multidimensional Narratives |
Metaphysical Exploration | Delving into the Meaning (or Absurdity) of Life |
See, philosophy isn’t about just sitting around in an armchair contemplating the universe.
It’s about taking what you’ve learned and slamming it onto the page with the force of a runaway freight train.
It’s about questioning everything—especially the stuff you think you know. What’s life about? Why do we write? What’s the point of this godforsaken world? Those are questions philosophy wants you to answer.
And those are the questions your characters will wrestle with.
To the Apprentice: A Simple Explanation
Okay, kid. Let’s slow it down a little. Imagine you’re trying to write about a character who doesn’t know what to do with their life.
Maybe they’re lost, maybe they’re confused, and maybe they just don’t care anymore. That’s where philosophy comes in. Philosophy helps you ask, Why don’t they care? What’s making them feel like the world is just one big joke?
And then you start building your story around that feeling—the hopelessness, the confusion, the existential crisis.
Think about it like this: you’re not just writing about a person anymore. You’re writing about what happens when a person faces a world that doesn’t give a damn about them.
Maybe your character is just going through the motions. Maybe they’re trying to find meaning in a meaningless world.
And philosophy helps you understand why they would even bother. It’s like giving them a roadmap, even if that roadmap doesn’t lead anywhere good.
The Opposition: What Do the Naysayers Say?
Now, let’s be honest. Not everyone’s going to agree with me here. There’s a whole crowd of so-called “pragmatic” writers who’ll tell you that philosophy is a waste of time.
They’ll say it’s just an abstract waste of energy when you could be focusing on something real—like plot structure, character arcs, and all that literary nonsense that actually gets your book on the shelves.
- Stephen King might laugh at you for even thinking about philosophy. He’s not the type to waste time overthinking things. He believes in writing from the gut. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even care about any moral or philosophical framework you’ve built around your characters. He’d just say, Make it exciting, make it real, and stop overthinking it.
- Mark Twain was the original cynic. He’d probably roll his eyes and mutter, Philosophy? A waste of time. Just go write something that makes people laugh or cry, but leave all that navel-gazing to the academics.
- In fact, even many English Lit Professors will argue that philosophy can lead to overly dense writing, full of self-indulgent thoughts that no one gives a damn about. It’s all well and good to think deep thoughts, but can you write a compelling character? Can you tell a story that people want to read?
Fair enough. I get it. The world isn’t full of philosophers. It’s full of people trying to make rent.
But still, there’s something beautiful about philosophy that can make your writing hit harder.
And if you’re reading this, then you’re probably the type who needs that extra bite in your words.
The Curtains Close
Here’s the deal. Too many writers are busy tossing out plot twists just for the hell of it—twists that don’t mean anything, just trying to screw with your head.
They think confusing the reader is clever, but it’s bullshit. Confusion can be deep if you’ve got something solid behind it. Without that, though? It’s just noise. It’s like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat with no reason, no substance.
That’s where philosophy steps in. It doesn’t hand you all the answers, but it makes you ask the right questions. It gives your writing some muscle, some weight, so when you hit a twist, it actually means something.
Without it, you’re just throwing junk at the wall hoping it sticks.
Philosophy isn’t about being a pretentious idiot—it’s about building a foundation so your confusion, your mess, your story, actually has a point. So forget the cheap tricks. Start digging deeper. Otherwise, you’re just writing to be forgotten.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.