Why I Write

One of my dreams is to be a good writer. A decent enough writer to communicate my thoughts with utmost clarity and precision to the world. I know it won’t be an easy skill to acquire but I will press on.

Here is the why behind the dream from the book, Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg.

Why do I Write? 

I write because I kept my mouth shut all my life and the secret truth is I want to live eternally and I want my people to live forever.

I write because I am alone and move through the world alone. No one will know what has passed through me, and even more amazing, I don’t know. Now that it’s spring I can’t remember what it felt like to be in forty below.

I write because I am crazy and I know it and accept it and I have to do something with it other than go to the loony bin.

I write because there are stories that people have forgotten to tell, because I am trying to stand up in my life.

I write because to form a word with your lips and tongue or think a thing and then dare to write it down so you can never take it back is the most powerful, brave thing I know.

I write because I am trying to come alive, to find the distances in my own recesses and bring them forward and give them color and form.

I write out of total incomprehension that even love isn’t enough and that finally writing might be all I have and that isn’t enough. I can never get it all down, and besides, there are times when I have to step away from the table, notebook, and turn to face my own life. Then there are times when it’s only coming to the notebook that I truly do face my own life.

And I write out of hurt and how to make hurt okay; how to make myself strong and come home, and it may be the only real home I’ll ever have.


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