Why Do I Write?

Why Do I Write?

I recall that ride to London from Cambridge using the National Coach services. I sat by the window and my mind drifted from the book I was reading to a couple of the friends I was blessed to know over time. I pulled out my pen and notebook and started scribbling an appreciation for all that they have done for me, inspired me to be, given to me, or been there for me.  On and on I wrote as the bus (or probably train) rode on. I would later finish that poem when I arrived at my friend’s house.

For as long as I can remember, I have used writing (and drawing) as a means to express my deepest thoughts and reflections. To an extent, I could argue that this has been my primary way of expressing my deepest joys, revealing my conflicting thoughts, and expressing sorrow in times of grief. Words have helped me build those bridges, pick those flowers, treat those invisible wounds, churn out my heart’s cry, and even desperation when lonely. I recall writing profusely all my romantic thoughts -when I fell in love -as though I didn’t want any of them to escape. Similarly, when people do horrible things, my pen has come out to wage war on my behalf. Inspiration from God, the Bible, and people with amazing stories also inspire me to write.

It is not always easy to write though. There have been times when words do actually fail me. When anger or frustration blinds the flow of expression and chokes your throat and freezes your hands. Yet, it is important to write even in those times, lest one forgets how one felt. Writing helps capture the moment even if it is only for my own benefit sometime in the future.

That is why I write.

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