Good writing demands honesty, and I crave that kind of purity. It puts me in a space where I can come to terms with ideas that would otherwise be unexpressed or passed up for something less worthy.
Writing is also discipline: a challenge of articulation to pare down all that is unnecessary so that we may reveal an essence to others. It’s hard to show up every day and entice the muse to come out when there may be no clear incentive to do so.
Writing is an act of creation. It’s like taking vitamins to even out the balance of consuming so much media every day. After I’ve written something, I feel like I’ve contributed one small iota of something to the world, which feels better than taking something away.
Writing is livelihood. Without it, I’d be dead by now. Yeah I’m definitely on life support right now, and so if I stop I’ll go down. But it’s barely keeping things alive, and I’m grateful it’s still part of my life.
Writing reveals secrets. Once you get going, I mean really let go and get into it, you make connections about things you wouldn’t normally make. I wouldn’t have been able to think all these thoughts about writing if I hadn’t started writing about them.
Writing gives you an upperhand. It shows you can express an idea without flinching or stumbling. It can even be used as a weapon against…well, whatever the hell you’re fighting against.
Writing creates more space than it fills. Try to visualize a small vessel in a large empty room. The vessel is the space you create when you write, and the rest of the room is the space you’ve created for other people to absorb your ideas.
Writing is a part of my life just like waking up and hearing the quick flitter of a bird’s wings outside my second story window.