Why do I write? Let me count the ways. I write to think, to emote, to ruminate, to fixate, to reflect , to describe, to culminate. I fill my time, my space, my place. I write to become a better writer. I write because I am compelled to do so.
Writing is an activity, a joy
never a chore, never a bore
always a love, sometimes trying
always inspiring!
As you can see, I’m not a writer of poetry and can’t imagine why I chose to write this silly ditty above, but it’s what came out when I put my fingers to the keyboard. That’s what often happens to me.
I had a high school English teacher who inspired me to write. She gave me a lot of positive feedback, told me there was a writer inside me and all I had to do was to let it out. I believed her and majored in English at UT.
My first English professor told me he didn’t think I could write well enough to major in English. I could either be defeated or beat him, and I don’t lay down the baton that easily. I trudged on. I eventually changed majors for other reasons (teaching deaf children to read and write instead).
I spent several years journaling in college and became an excellent research writer. Then came marriage, work and two children and I forgot about my personal craft and focused only on my work and family. During that time I forgot the value of writing for self. I look back now and long for the information I could have if only I had written as my boys were growing. I could have chronicled their lives and given it to them as a gift.
Well, it’s never too late and I’m not that old. Now I am reflecting on my life and putting it into words. I still have enough years left to write about my life and to remember the joy of writing just for the fun of it. Meeting with like minded women in a safe environment gives me the forum to pick up the baton once again and run with it. I feel off kilter if I miss a day without writing now. Writing balances me.
