Writing is a very personal thing. No two writers write for the same reason. My reasons are different from the writer in the next blog over. No two people with write the same. So, why does someone write? Well, i can’t say why Bob writes, but I can tell you why I write.
To start off, like I have said many times before, I started writing while I was in eighth grade. I remember it clearly because we had a writing assignment. Normally I struggled with it because I wasn’t a big fan on writing. I didn’t get the point of it. But this assignment was different. It was a free write. The teacher told us to write about anything we wanted. Up until that point in my young life, I wanted to be a paleontologist. So I decided to write about dinosaurs; I wrote them finding out about humans (they were time traveling dinosaurs.) I turned it in on the due date and waited for my grade, My goal was to get at least a C and not fail. Instead, I was called to her office (even now as I rack my brain, I can’t remember her name but I can so clearly see her face and her cute little button nose). Fearing for the worst, I prepared for the principal to be there and everything else. But it was only her and me. I sat down and took a deep breath in. She smiled and told “I think you should study the art of writing.” Assuming she was referring to my poor grammar, I frowned. Another smile and the words, “You have a gift with words. Your paper made me laugh so much. I think you need to join our writing group.”
At twelve years old, I never thought about being a writer. I mean, yeah, I enjoyed English classed and I loved to read but how was I supposed to be able to write like writers do? Lo and behold, I learned how and I struggle when I can’t get any writing done.
The reason why I write is complicated, to say the least. I grew up in an abusive environment. My father for the most part was out of my life and I was a very depressed little girl. On top of that, I am one of the first classes in school that grew up with standardize testing and we always had to write that way. Since I was young I was taught to journal; to write down what I was feeling as a why to express myself. It had become second nature for most of my childhood but it was always for my therapist and me. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that I could use that skill and turn it into something else.
I guess what I am trying to get at is, for me at least, writing is a way for me to express myself and open up in away that is comfortable for me. At the same time, writing has help me cope with things that I didn’t know how to handle. Writing helps me create things that let’s me entertain and amaze the world around me!
As I am typing this up, a tear rolls down my cheek. For me, writing is like breathing; if I can’t write, I die. A little dramatic but it’s true. I love to share writing with others. Some view writing as a lot of work. I enjoy every minute of it (even the days I want to pull my hair out). I won’t change it for the world.
The reason I write is to stay alive! 😀
Well, until next time…