Writing is speaking in the voice I wish I had. Writing is the opportunity to be strange. Writing is the ability to create worlds. Writing is music. Writing is food. Writing is sex. These things may sound strange, but if you break them down, they make perfect sense; writing is power, art, nourishment, and pleasure.
I write because I need to. I write because it is who I am.
I write because it sets me free.
I wrote this a few days ago for one of my classes. The assignment was to write a 30 second speech in which you said something substantial about your writing. Though it was a bit of a difficult task, it didn’t take me long. This was a rare instance that I could simply write what I felt. It just came out of me.
I’ve never told anyone why I love to write. I never even told myself. I guess it’s always just been something that is. I like to write, and so I do. I don’t question it, or dissect it. It just happens. It’s a part of me. I think I’ve left it alone for so long because I don’t want to ruin it for myself. I don’t want to over-think it. I just want to let it be.
This sums it up, though. I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. If I didn’t write, I’d be in a mental hospital. My hair would fall out and my toes would shrivel up like raisins. My teeth would turn baked bean brown and my armpits would chap. My feet would sweat profusely and I would start chain-smoking cheap cigarettes.
Get the picture?
I have to do this. But it’s ok. Because I love to do it.
I thought about expounding more upon my little assignment, but I think I’ll leave it alone.
However, I really, really, really want to know why you all write. What compels you to put your words on paper (or a computer screen)? Why do you want to write? Are you forced to like me? Or do you have more of a choice in the matter? What are your motivations?
I would love nothing more than to hear your thoughts. Sixteen gold doubloons will be awarded to anyone brave enough to comment.
Have a splendid day. And remember to write.