Why do I write? My first response to that question is why not write? I cannot remember a time in my life when writing was not a part of it. I have written poetry, short stories, journals, rants, and raves for as far back as I can remember. Was it all publishable or even worth someone reading, probably not but it was an outlet for me and that is all that mattered.
Having said all that I guess it is safe to say that writing is an opening for me. It allows me to express myself in ways otherwise unavailable. I get to determine who my audience is and when, if at all, to share what I have written. Thoughts are constantly floating around and although they do not always make it down on paper, they are stored in the file cabinet for a rainy day.
Writing is therapeutic for me. I can write about things that are on my mind from today, yesterday, five years ago, or longer. Thoughts have a way of holding you captive until released and that is where my writing comes into play.
Sometimes if I am having a rough day instead of carrying it around with me, I will write about it and then delete it. Never having seen the light of day but gone from my mind are those thoughts that have held me captive and I am all the better for it because it has been set free.
Our brains are like mini computers. We take stuff in and eventually if it is not stored somewhere else you run out of memory. With my writing, I download every so often thereby freeing up space and allowing the brain to defrag.
That is all practical and good but my writings embody my emotions and at times things get bogged down or bottled up because of what I am feeling and they marinate for a while until I can find a way to get them out cohesively. This is where I am right now and have been for a few months now. Feelings are disjointed and running amok making it difficult to put into words and so they have been festering, soaking, and have reached the boiling point. They need releasing before they spill over and make a mess and so this 30,000-word challenge could not have come at a better time. With that said, if I seem to be like a Mexican jumping bean (all over the place) you will understand why. There is a lot of stuff up there just waiting to come out.
Having said all that I guess it is safe to say that writing is an opening for me. It allows me to express myself in ways otherwise unavailable. I get to determine who my audience is and when, if at all, to share what I have written. Thoughts are constantly floating around and although they do not always make it down on paper, they are stored in the file cabinet for a rainy day.
Writing is therapeutic for me. I can write about things that are on my mind from today, yesterday, five years ago, or longer. Thoughts have a way of holding you captive until released and that is where my writing comes into play.
Sometimes if I am having a rough day instead of carrying it around with me, I will write about it and then delete it. Never having seen the light of day but gone from my mind are those thoughts that have held me captive and I am all the better for it because it has been set free.
Our brains are like mini computers. We take stuff in and eventually if it is not stored somewhere else you run out of memory. With my writing, I download every so often thereby freeing up space and allowing the brain to defrag.
That is all practical and good but my writings embody my emotions and at times things get bogged down or bottled up because of what I am feeling and they marinate for a while until I can find a way to get them out cohesively. This is where I am right now and have been for a few months now. Feelings are disjointed and running amok making it difficult to put into words and so they have been festering, soaking, and have reached the boiling point. They need releasing before they spill over and make a mess and so this 30,000-word challenge could not have come at a better time. With that said, if I seem to be like a Mexican jumping bean (all over the place) you will understand why. There is a lot of stuff up there just waiting to come out.
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