Why I Write

Things have been changing in my life. I don't quite have the perspective just yet on whether I'm moving forward or not, but I suspect I am.
I don't really tend to move backwards.

I am making every effort to follow my dreams - dreams that I have had for years. Dreams that occupied my time while I was doing something else. Dreams that have been slowly pushing themselves to the surface - not despite my problems, but because of them.

And it's because of these dreams that I confront this question today: Why do I write?
More importantly: Why is writing such a huge part of who I am?

I have always been a big reader. I adore reading and books. I have dreamt for many years of having an intimate book club - and have attempted to have one many times. Each has had it's own successes and wonders, but have all inevitably ended when they could not be maintained. (This sometimes makes me jealous of my mum's book club :P)

Books just make me light up. I adore book shops, especially secondhand ones. I love libraries, library book sales, even uni book shops.

I'm not sure if I started writing stories when I started reading 'big kid books', but I have recently found little notebooks filled with writing from when I was around six, and spelled my t's with upside-down, back-to-front f's. (Maybe you need to see my writing to understand that. I'll try to show you sometime.)

I am always thinking about writing. I always have little ideas in my head of what would make a good story, where I could take a story, bizarre ideas for characters and adventures and romance. I have flashes of new stories at the most inappropriate times - in the shower, or when I'm just dropping off to sleep and have to decide whether it's worth turning on the light and finding something to write the idea on (it's almost always worth it).

I am fascinated by authors and their work. I even read books on reading, and books on writing. I immerse myself in the written word so often that my eyes suffer for it. I am having to take up listening to audiobooks (which are also amazing, but I still find myself preferring the act of reading for some unknown reason).

But why do I write? Why do I almost always have a blog + a journal + many stories being written?

Obviously, it is something I love. It is something that is integral to my being. I cannot imagine living without writing, without books! I guess, for me, it's gotten to the point where I need these things to live: air, food, water, safety, rest... and books.

I also write because I want to share the thoughts that go through my mind, the stories that I believe need to be told, the lessons I have learned. I want to connect with people on a deeper level. Sidenote: I suck at small talk. I dislike doing it. I prefer to get down to the 'nitty-gritty' and discuss what makes a person tick. I have no interest in prying, but I do have a boundless curiosity about people. And, incidentally, about myself.

My writing is an expression of myself, and a means to find connection in the world. I feel amazing when I write, and I only hope that sometimes my writing makes others feel amazing too.

1 comment musings, thoughts, writing