Merry Christmas. The packages have been torn into and the wrapping paper cleared away. Our gifts are stacked up under the tree. I hope your morning was as chaotic and laughter-filled as ours.It is appropriate today to appreciate not just on the gifts that sit beneath the pine boughs in our family room, but also the God-given ones that have found harbor within us: our health, a happy family, and our talents. I thank God for my love of words and honor Him by using them.
I stumbled across a Dec. 1 post by Katrina Anne Willis (thanks to Twitter) where she shared her response to a writing contest prompt. In 500 words or less she had to complete the following: “I write because…” She did a wonderful job of sharing her reasons and I hope that I can do the same.
Here goes nothing…
I write because I have that whole right brain thing going on inside my head. I create. I create art, I create design, I create music, I create stories. The process is the same, the medium is what changes. The journey of discovery is the lure.
I write because it fulfills a need to express myself. It gives me a chance to probe my own depths to see what is roiling around inside. Is it a happy place? Is it a thoughtful place? Silly? Sad? Helpful? Angry? Actually, it’s all of them, it just depends on the day.
I write because there is satisfaction in hunting down the right words and corralling them into the perfect order. I love the electric buzz of excitement when I express a feeling or emotion in a new and effective way or describe something in poetic terms that paints a much richer picture.
I write because I like the idea of ideas. I am intrigued by grabbing hold of the end of a thought and pulling myself along it to find out what the rest of it looks like. I love pursuing a story as it darts around a corner, briefly out of sight, and catching up with it to see what else is revealed.
I write because I like to share. The act of writing is the cake, sharing it is the icing. I hope that what I say is of enjoyment or use to others, but I won’t lie, the enjoyment of writing is what really motivates me. To keep it to one’s self seems a bit selfish, so sometimes scooping a fingerful of icing off the top is the reward.
I write because it can be therapeutic. Words can be a salve for an aching sole, an injured heart, a reeling mind. Letting what ails or fails you bleed out onto the page can be a true release, a lifting of the spirit, a purging of poisons.
I write because I read. Reading opens up new worlds and exposes me to new ideas. It challenges me, and validates me. It entertains and it disturbs. Writing is like reading in slow motion, it just takes me longer to turn the page.
I write because it is a record of what crosses my mind. The written word is like a photograph of thoughts, freezing the moment, capturing it to be experienced again.
I write because I want to not because I can. I write because I need to not because I must. Sometimes I just write because…
Why do you write?
Merry Christmas. Enjoy your gifts…