Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Why do I write?

I write because I have to.  I write because there is so much to write about.  Because without writing, I could never make sense of the world. 

I write because if I don't I might implode.  My cells would fill up with all the energy of life, pulsing and throbbing with depth and power and sunlight, eventually exploding.  The days when I don't write I become antsy, nervous, as if I am waiting for something else to happen, some other release to come.
 
I write because I love books.  And I want one with my name on it.
I write because I am envious.
I write because I seek success.

I write because I want to save words.  I have read more books than I can count.  More books than I care to remember.  I read everything, fiction, nonfiction, kidlit, mystery, self help.  Everything that doesn't have a label.  I read it all.  Sometimes it is so poorly written that I want to rewrite it.  Spill it out into my own computer and rework the words that have been so badly abused. I write because I judge.  I judge everything, not least of which are the books I read.

I write because I put faith in grammar.  I have inherited my aunt's English teacher grammatical correctness and I want the world to be punctuated with the right are and our, and have everyone be clear about the differences between their and there and they're

I write because I like order.  I like the little boxes that you can put words into.  You can type them out into nice neat lines that do not waver. There is no question about the lines, or when they will wrap around to the following one.  The words follow each other without fussing and you know exactly where they will fall.

I write because in the writing is a constant discovery, of the world, of myself.  I never quite know what will come out until I sit down and look at the paper, at the screen and touch the emptiness with the creativity that sputters out of my fingers. 

I write because the blank whiteness is just sitting there waiting, so hopeful, so open to anything.  The possibilities are enormous when I write.  In the end, what lines up on the paper always seems to bring out a little bit more than what I thought I would be.  And it makes me glad.

1 comment:

Darcy Pattison said...

Nice litany!
Darcy
www.darcypattison.com/books