WHY I WRITE

Why do I write?  I’m afraid my answer to this complex question is boring and conceited. It has no meaningful background story or emotional ties. I wish it did. I wish it was inspiring and powerful and made other kids want to find a passion in writing. The truth, however, is that I write because I was told that I was good at it. Whether it was my mom or dad or teachers, the people who read my work believed that I was a talented writer and even though I did not, I continued writing. I think I enjoyed having something that separated me from the “smart students.” My siblings and friends were bright in the conventional subjects of math and science, and I was too, but writing was different. None of them were as good of a writer as I was. It made me special and I liked that. I had felt special before.

 

Growing up, I was a gifted athlete, but I always seemed to fall short of my potential. “Wasted talent” was a term that lived on the surface of my brain, creeping to the very forefront of my thoughts whenever it seemed failure was near. And I failed a lot. From very early on, I showed serious talent in several sports. During each of these phases in my life, people told me I was really special, and every time, I got the same feeling. It bounced in my stomach and swirled through my body before reaching my face, causing a childish smirk to shine across it. It was affirmation I longed for, and I was unable to conceal my joy. It fluffed my ego and truly made me happy, but this was fleeting, and when the feeling faded and my talent dwindled, I was left with nothing. No happiness or joy in my stomach. Just emptiness and thoughts of what could have been. I was fortunate to find a lasting version of this bouncing happiness in golf. It didn’t dim or die out. I even achieved my dream of becoming a collegiate athlete. I was “wasted talent” no more. I chased similar feelings for a long time until I realized I had already found it in writing. It was happiness that never faltered and talent that was innate. It would be with me forever. So, I write for the lifelong sensation of happiness that bounces around in my stomach whenever I do.

 

There are other reasons too, of course.

I write because writing allows me to tell my truths.

I write because I love language.

I write because sometimes words just flow out with no warning.

I write because of the high I get when those words flow out.

I write because writing is not a perfect construct. It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to put your own spin on things. The idea of “right and wrong” is not so prominent. You are free to be creative and adventurous. You are free to be unique and random and silly. You are free to be you or not you. You can be anyone.

 

All of those reasons are why I love writing. I suppose that is truly why I write. Because I love it. And as I typed those words, a wave of emotion and clarity came over me. Maybe I started writing because I was told I was good at it, but I continue writing because I really just love it. I think that’s enough of a reason, right? If you love something, you do it for as long as they allow you. So maybe my answer to this question would inspire kids to find a passion in writing. Or just to find a passion in something they love. Something that makes their stomach bounce with joy.