On Writing

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Writing is personal. Writing is crafting thoughts, giving shape to ideas and letting them loose in the world for it to be held aloft or beaten down. Writing it sharing a piece of yourself with each piece, each word. It is letting yourself be seen uncloaked, unarmored. Writing is being vulnerable. Writing takes courage. Writing is being pragmatic. Writing means you need to disconnect, dissociate from your content after you hit send.

I write because I feel a desperate need to pin thoughts on paper. I get a high from seeing my thoughts take shape. Sometimes I read what I have written and feel a smile creep up that stays long after I have closed my laptop. I write to fill a burning need to connect. I write because sometimes words are all I have. I write when I am upset. I write when I am in love. I write when I am happy. I write because that is all I do.

I write sometimes for the reaction my thoughts provoke. I write for the narcissistic part of me that glows on seeing a validating comment on what I post. I write to defend myself. I write to dispel the hurt that harsh words cause. I write because I canโ€™t not write.

Sometimes I dream of fame. Sometimes I know that it is all in the head. Sometimes, I wish I could craft each piece to provoke reaction. Most times though, I write because I am lonely.

I write. I am.

12 comments

  1. I get a feeling that you have written this before. Well, may be because your writing has always said why you write, and not so subtly. I mean it as a compliment.

  2. Descartes said, “I think therefore I am” , I believe you may have substituted write for think…”I write therefore I am” which is, I think, a part of what you are saying. I don’t think it is everything I am, and I am lots of things, as you are…mother, wife, one who creates with writing, and so on…and I have many behaviors that define me…but all would be diminished if I did not write, and all are enhanced because I write. I write, therefore I am more than I would be if I did not write.

    So, I lift my glass of water, I breathe my breath of air, I take in the elixir of life, oxygen, and my body extracts it from the air I breathe in, and it, along with writing, and love, and music, and love, and nature, and love, and children, and love, and art, and love, is what nourishes me, and what I write is out of the love in me that is to be shared, for it is nothing if not shared…

    So, I lift my glass to life, to all that entails, and I raise my fist and say……write on, write on….may we all have the eloquence of Cyrano, and our marks hit home as his rapier would, and say….”thrust home…as I mark with my last refrain, thrust home”

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