Sometimes, I ask myself, why did I become a writer? Why do I spend countless hours encouraging my vision to become bleary hazes before me? Is there some covert reason I’m not aware of?
Over the days, it’s been a question that has pulled and teared at my subconscious for awhile now. It seems as if anyone can be a writer nowadays, and anyone can be, but to become a true passionate for the written art, now that takes someone who will pluck up courage and speak out through crumpled pages brimmed with inked letters. I’m not sure I am there yet, but it’s like an itch, beckoning I tend to it. It feels like a call from within the wind, lulling me closer to the computer, to sit and write down what’s hidden inside.
Writing for me is liberation from reality, from the things that will make you waver and fall. It’s a symbol of true spirit, for that one person who wants to speak out, but can’t, all because they’re too shy, but behind the walls he’s lifted, they’re wanting to release their voices into the atmosphere. I guess I can say I’m one of them, too quiet to speak out, but when writing, you can say what you want. There are many examples of those who spoke, and are now one of the most known authors. The audacity to release their thoughts into the public, their theories, their once hidden notions, their lives, all becoming a part of what we know today.
To me, one author who captures me is Helen Keller. She’s done so many things, yet with so many health-related setbacks. When I felt like backing down from such a trivial matter, I remember her, and I somehow regain the strength I’d suddenly lost. I also know modern authors, not yet known to us globally, but to the very few they’ve been able to reach, it has changed their lives. It gives them a perspective on just how far a human’s mind can fathom, can conjure and be able to describe this with such facility, as if they had let out a simple breath. I think only very few have that gift, but others strive, including me. As another blogger said, “Why would anyone want to dream beautiful lies instead of living sober truths?”
But whatever your motive for becoming a writer, I trust you will use it wisely, to free your mind and allow it all to pour onto a blank slate. It’s an art always worth fighting for.