Why do I write?

Before I share my answer to that most provocative question, I have to say that this was a most delicious exercise, and I hope that some of you take it on.

In recent months I have felt an insatiable need to write (and no, I don’t share most of it here). Most days there is a period where I am utterly compelled to write; I am on fire with words that need to be given release. I completely lose myself in the little bubble of space that includes nothing except for me, the computer screen and the keyboard, and I write until I am done. It almost feels as if there is a contract I have with the universe to use these words, and I cannot truly relax until that contract is fulfilled.

“I must write it out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living”~ Anne Morrow Lindinburg

For me, in the act of translating my life into words, I get the opportunity to own my experience on a whole different level. Not just to own it, but to understand it, to relive it, to dive into it and to step back from it. There is a wealth of perspective to be gained by existing inside and outside of our experiences at the same time.

So…why do I write?

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I write to quiet the tortured demons in my head and I write in hopes of transmitting the purest peace in my heart. I write to make sense of chaos and to create space in my mind. I write because I love words with unparalleled passion. I write because although I adore talking, there is no way I could ever use all the words I need to use just by speaking. I write because I am lit from within. I write because sometimes the blackness gets too dark. I write for my sanity. I write because my fingers enjoy the sensation of dancing across the keyboard, and because my ears quite like the rapid clickety-click noise of the keys when I hit a flash of inspiration. I write as a gift to myself. I sometimes write to escape real life, and other times to ground myself in reality. I write because words and phrases chase me and haunt my dreams, ordering me to rise from bed at 3am to purge them from my brain, lest they be lost forever in the whisps of night air blowing through my open bedroom window. I write because it brings together my heart, mind and soul in a most beautiful union. I write because I fear I will not otherwise remember. I write in hopes that releasing my narrative gives something to those who read it. I write because if I did not liberate these words they would create a viscous and tangled web in my mind, preventing me from moving on. I write to translate my life experience into another form. I write because it is a privilege, and out of a sense of responsibility. I write because words are my meditation. I write until I am energized by a force that comes from outside and from within. I write for immortality. I write until I am utterly and completely spent. I write because reading my thoughts helps me comprehend my reality on another level. I write because it is like glorious free-fall. I write as a gift, and I write because I am utterly selfish. I write because I am compelled to do so. I write so that I will remember, and sometimes I write so that I can forget. I write for cheap therapy. I write to become empty, and to fill myself up. I write as an exercise in control. I write because I am on fire with inspiration. I write because it is the hardest thing I do, and I write because it is as effortless as breathing. I write because in the act of composition I am both lost and found in a single moment. I write because I fear that without writing I would cease to exist. I write because words speak to me - they whisper, they shout, they sing – they beg me to find a purpose for them, to put them to work and make them into something greater than merely the sum of their parts. I write to shut out the world, and I write to hold the universe into the palm of my hand. I write to freeze time and to make time pass me by. I write because of late nights and early mornings and the sound of crashing thunder and the smell of hot coffee and the feeling of sand between my toes after a day at the beach. I write because broken hearts are inevitable and I write because I believe in pure, blinding love. I write for both impermanence and for eternity. I write for companionship, and to find the most blissful, sweet solitude I have ever experienced. I write to put the bad things to rest, and I write to relive the good things over and over again. I write when I am wracked with self-doubt, and I write in periods of delusional narcissism. I write for every emotion ever experienced by any person in the universe. I write to prove myself. I write because I believe there is something more, and I write because I believe I am all that there is. I write because words are energy. I write because there is no choice but to write.

I write because I must.
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And so now again I ask you….why do YOU write?