Usually I’m not big on the “why” questions. Why am I here? Why get out of bed? Why shouldn’t I have any more peanut buster parfaits from Dairy Queen? They lead to not enough time in one lifetime navel-gazing types of ruminations.
The other night, a bunch of us were sitting around and the question came up, “Why Write?” At first the question came from a place of resignation. Why not just drink? Why not just eat? Why not just see the world? Good questions (googling TripAdvisor as I ask that). Take a walk through Chapters or any large book store or library and you’ll soon be dizzy with all the books that have already been written. Pretty soon, if you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself bellying up to a bar and drowning your sorrows on why the hell you haven’t written one of them their books like all those other smart people, especially since just about everyone in the world (including someone’s cat) has written everything already. Given that, it’s practically your duty not to waste one more tree by putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, and then you can’t stop yourself.
So Why Write?
- I can’t separate the act from who I am.
- It’s a good way to figure things out that have confused me.
- It has the potential to change the way I think and the way other people think.
- It’s entertaining.
- It’s a pretty good way to spend a rainy day.
- Helps to convey emotion when spoken words can’t do it well enough.
- Reflects human universality back to me and maybe to you.
- Leads to internal dialogue that’s more interesting than 67% of conversations you’ll have with other people.
- Transports me somewhere I wish I was or wish existed.
- Brings me the kind of joy that buying a new pair of shoes (substitute anything) can’t.
- Because I’m a masochist.
And, so it goes.
What about you? Do you write? Why? If not, why not? If you were going to write, what woud you write about? What’s a favourite sentence that you’ve come across lately?