Why Write?

Why Write?
I don't know if the number is thousands or millions, but many many of us do it. And when I say write I don't mean the mundane formalities we all must do from forced school paper writing to bill paying and record keeping. I mean why pour your heart and soul out onto paper? Why transfer the strongest thoughts and emotions in your head and your heart by typing them into 12 point Times New Roman or whatever your preference (I like Georgia myself, bolded) Why do so many of us feel that inescapable pull to pour out raw substance and shape it into prose?

I have found myself compelled to write since middle school. It started simply as something I did because a friend I admire most did it. But it quickly became more than that. By the time I was 14 it was a hobby, something I realized I enjoyed. By the time I was 16 it was a compulsion, almost as important as breathing. I haven't been able to stop since.

I wrote buckets of notes to my friends. I penned "plays" staring my personalities as birthday gifts to them. (first there was 6 of me, I ended with 10 of me) I started then tossed aside several attempts at books. I even wrote in that most escapist and indulgent of all genres-fan fiction.

I butted heads with everyone of my English teachers in high school on what the value was in writing term papers. I was never able to understand the point of writing something my heart wasn't in. Why write if emotions aren't invoked? Words like objective and literary analysis were pounded into my head, and twisted into my own meanings there. I only excelled in the writing assignments I was allowed a scarp of creativity in. I wanted to create, not rehash, and certainly not put words into a dead author's mouth. They weren't there to agree that the teacher's interpretation was the only meaning they had intended, and I knew if I ever became an author I would LOATHE someone doing that to me.

By the time I was 18 I was determined to write a book or die trying. In the meantime I wrote narratives like it was my bread and butter (it was so much better than my true source of income, working retail) Then I blogged obsessively. Finally when I turned 25 I finished a novel. Before I'd even done anything concrete in the way of getting it published, I had already gotten a 3rd through the sequel.

WHY?

Why does such a passion dominate and direct me. Why do I not feel whole until the feelings and thoughts in my head are spilled onto a page. Why can't I stop?
I think it's because writing is a therapy. Who wants to talk to a shrink when you talk to a page, a page that doesn't talk back or give advice, but just listens? And that's the beauty of writing. When I've done and said everything I needed to say, and conveyed every emotion that was bursting to put itself into words, I can share it with anyone I think may benefit from it or no one at all. It's as personal or as private as I want it to be. I derive pleasure, healing, and closure from the act.
When I write, I can dissect any of my thoughts or any of my interests. I can delve into the depths of my faith. I can commentate on politics (my major) I can treasure and dive into memories, dwell in the present blessings that surround me, or rejoice in the unseen possibilities that are my future. The options, reasons, and benefits are limitless.

It's not just me. Many engage in this. What propels them?
What I see in writing is the joy of the journey. You are always trying to get somewhere. When you start there is the unknown. Answers come along the way and truths are established. And by the end you have reached a conclusion, or an equally exciting and new course to pursue (ah the sequel!) We all find our own truths, our own epiphanies, our own delights. The journey described can be a physical one, like Frodo's quest to Mordor in The Lord of the Rings. Or it can be an emotional or mental one (my personal favorite) Often it may be a combination of both.

You can take any event in your life and pull it apart. You can record it exactly from your own perspective, or twist it into something that merely echoes your own experience, and serves as inspiration to exploring if that event had had different consequences and results.

The other beauty in writing is that it means different things to different people. I also loved and devoured books at an early age. And from middle school on I started to see how a piece of writing could mean one thing to one person, and another to the next. Everyone had their own interpretation, their own way in which they connected to that author and the things that author said. Some rejected the messages they saw while others embraced it. Being an author means you can be different things to different people, but if they are looking for something in your writing they will find what they individually need most. Wow.
Some writing on the other hand is best kept to yourself. Some stories only need to be shared and evaluated by you, and never know another reader. Writing is a noble pursuit purely if all it ever does is serve the purpose of knowing yourself better and opening doors in your mind. Sometimes you realize you were wrong about something. Sometimes you realize you were right and how important it was that you were. Sometimes you just find something you couldn't see until you put it into words.

Whatever the reason, writing has its own value. It will never be worthless, never be a waste of time when done to look into your soul and get a better view at everything that lies there; good, bad, and ugly. Writing can inspire, and teach, and correct.

I can think of no better way to know who you really are and what life holds for you than to write and discover what you may never have seen otherwise.
Sometimes its scary as hell. Sometimes you'll make an ass of yourself and wish you never wrote it in the first place. I hate finding out how shallow I can really be.
But you'll have to chop my hands off before I stop writing. Because I also love seeing how much I've really learned about the world around me. Writing is my catharsis, it's what I need, and how I really know what I value and why, and how I learn about love, life, and myself.

Once started, it is incredibly difficult to stop. And the simple joy of the journey is enough reason to begin.

I'll admit it. I'm addicted.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.