Why I write

I’ve been writing since I was very young. I wrote a book when I was about 10 years old. I’ve written plenty of music, too, plus I’ve kept journals and diaries over the years. My severe insomnia facilitates my writing habit beautifully.

There’s a difference between writing something and saying it.

Many of the things I write I may never say out loud. The opportunity might not ever present itself. Or, I can suffer from a certain amount of embarrassment when speaking candidly, so writing is more comfortable. I can often write things that would otherwise stick in my throat.

Writing is safe.

Writing gives me privacy and a chance to be myself without judgment from others. I can express myself freely (should I choose to do so) without interruption and without second-guessing the meaning of a lifted eyebrow, a yawn, or some other gesture from a listener. Those gestures, along with certain shortsighted comments, can really stop me cold—or at the very least change the entire course of my conversation. An experience like that is emotionally jarring, leaving me feeling as if I should start holding back, defending myself, or withdrawing entirely.

When I write, I can be tender, funny, erotic, angry, opinionated, or any number of other expressives which could be difficult in the face-to-face arena. I can take chances in writing. I can safely uncork what might otherwise stay corked under the pressure of fear or inhibition.

Writing can be therapeutic.

It’s like the biblical scapegoat that carries away the sins of the people into the wilderness. Or like one of those Peruvian “worry dolls” – apparently, you’re supposed to give a worry to one of those dolls, then you put the doll under your pillow. The doll takes care of the worry for you. Neat idea, huh?

When I look at something I’ve written–especially if it’s brutally honest–I can walk away feeling as if I no longer need to be consumed by it or let it drain me of time or energy. Whatever “it” was from then on can belong to the worry dolls and the scapegoats of the universe.

Writing helps me tell the truth.

I can’t be phony when I write, because it’s so ridiculously counter-productive. Besides, it’s too painful to see a lie when I put one on paper.

Writing can create a bond of trust, if I allow it to.

Sometimes, writing makes it easier for the other person to “listen.” They can do so at their own pace, and they can re-play whatever they need for clarity or simply for pure enjoyment if they wish. They can chew on my concepts, ideas, and words and decide on meanings for themselves. That in itself helps me learn how to trust.

Sometimes, I go in empty-handed.

I didn't say, "empty-headed." I said, "empty-HANDed."

When I sit down with an open heart, I often wind up sharing what I didn’t even know I had to say. I don’t need to know the end from the beginning—in fact, there are many times when I don’t even know the beginning from the beginning. I just start writing.

The important thing.

The really important thing for me about writing is the self-disclosure. If anyone is interested, they’ll read it. If they aren’t, they won’t. But at least I’ve done my part. I’ve actually let down the walls and opened up. Consequences be damned! Good for me!

If anyone is actually reading this blog entry—whoever you are—you now know more about me than you did before you started reading. Good for you!

Karen