Thursday, March 24, 2011

Why I Write

I have fans, yes.

And I have critics. 

Once you put your stuff out there in the public world for other people to see, it's just inevitable. 

You are never going to be able to please everyone all the time, and I'm not much a people pleaser anyway.   I know where my youngest daughter gets that from.

Thing is, some of the people who I wish were on my side aren't.  They judge my writing, they wonder why I'm doing it at all.  They think it's for reasons wholly unrelated to the real ones.

The real ones? 

There are a few.

First and foremost, I write because I love it.  Because there is something exhilarating in my universe when I can put my thoughts into words.  Because I've always been better at explaining myself this way than any other. I write because it brings me joy.

Second, I write for posterity.  I managed only to get my oldest child's first year calendar partially filled out, at some point gave up tracking every lost tooth and every milestone.  I never did any of those things with the other kids.  Too busy, too distracted.  Plus none of those ready-made things capture what infancy is really like, what toddlers can get into, what it's like to see fear in your child's eyes, what it's like to be proud of them.  This gives me freedom to write all that stuff and doesn't limit me to a tiny little box on a grid.

Third, I write for the release.  It lets me get things off my chest.  This isn't the only thing that I write. This isn't the only place.  There are others, oh are there others.  The books, four in all now started.  They are there, always waiting for me, always there to let me say what is really going on in my head.  And those are just for me.

Fourth, I write for the routine.  I want the experience, so that in the event I someday really pursue this in any professional aspect, I can say I've been doing it for so long, with so much regularity.

Fifth, I write to communicate my experiences.  I've had a few, and I know that when I was in them, there were times it felt like I was the only one who'd been there.  I don't want people to feel that way, and I hope this communicates that.

Those are the reasons I write.

Here are the non-reasons.

I don't write for sympathy.  I don't write out of desperation for attention.  I don't want anyone to think less or more of me because of this.  I have a real life that doesn't involve the computer at all.

I don't write for anyone or anything in particular.  I don't write for vengeance. I try not to write in anger, though sometimes it happens.

I also try not to write to defend myself, though sometimes I feel compelled to.  And in some ways, this post right here is an example of that slip-up.

You see, someone I love very much doesn't understand me right now. 

And that hurts.

I just want them to understand why.  For this and for everything that seems to be jumbled right now.

That's all.

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