Why I Write...

Why Do I Write?

I could make up some extravagant story about how as a child, on my 9^th birthday my mother gave me a beautiful red leather-bound notebook, and it was magical, and I have been writing ever since.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

The problem is, that would be a complete lie. The truth is I can’t pinpoint one exact moment in the past twenty years of my existence when I suddenly decided I wanted to write. Like a lot of things in life, it simply happened. Writing and I have had a complicated relationship. Our lives kept crossing, again and again until finally at some point they ended up intertwined.

I know this is a slightly clique’ explanation, so I have a confession to make, me being a writer definitely didn’t come out of nowhere. There have been many signs along the way that have pointed me in the right direction and cued me in on a few simple facts: I want to write, I will write, and I love to write.

I guess looking back it must have started after my parents got divorced when I began to keep a journal. Almost every night before I went to sleep, I would scribble for hours, getting every emotion/idea/thought I had down on paper. Afterwards, I would feel like a weight had been lifted and I could go on to face the next day. I continued this practice until high school where I was introduced to the idea of writing creatively. For the first time I had classes where I had the chance to put my skill to use.

Even though I finally had an outlet for my ideas, I was still limited. I was scared to write anything real or raw. Instead, I wrote only what I thought others would find appropriate, adding in just enough to make it interesting, but leaving out a lot of the essence of what I was really thinking.

Then there was a shift. I would look at something, or go somewhere and immediately think of how I could write about it. How I could set the scene, how I could describe the setting and characters.

This led to college, where I finally let go. I allowed myself to write what I really thought and didn’t care what other’s thought anymore.

Now, I finally feel like maybe what I have to say is worth reading. I don’t seek the approval of others, but I seek the opinions and comments of others. These are what help keep me moving forward.

Today, one of my favorite things in life is sitting somewhere quiet and getting engrossed in writing. Moving around words and sentences to make a piece sound exactly the way I envisioned it in my mind. Another amazing thing is how I have learned to write in many different styles: fiction, poetry, creative non-fiction, journalist writing; and I can do them all well.

I write because it takes a weight off my shoulders. I write because it allows me an outlet to express my thoughts. I write because it lets me explore all the different ways to describe the things I see. Lastly, I write because it drives me to see more and do more, so that I have more material to write about and share with the world.