If you write, no doubt you’ve been asked, “Why do you do it?”
Is it for the neck cramps, back aches, carpal tunnel, or crossed eyes? Our 10+ hour days at the computer? How about the bonbons on a silver tray via our assistants? Perhaps, we write for the fame, fortune, and accolades.
Hmmm…So many reasons. So difficult to decide.
I’ve heard some writers give the standard answer: “Well, I have to write like I have to breathe.”
I admit, I’ve said it, too.
Really, though, the truth is much more complex than that.
For me, my love of the written word began as a youngster–with reading.
In first grade, I was in the “Red Bird” (“accomplished reader”) group. The “Blue Birds” were the slower students. The Red Birds moved at a faster pace than our counterparts, and the reward was a gold star by our names if we accomplished our personal goals (like learning new words and spelling them correctly.)
I loved reading about Sally, Dick, and Jane and…oh, what was the pet dog’s name? Spot?
Their adventures sounded grand to my six-year-old mind; I envisioned traveling the same places as they and getting lost in new worlds of words. It was then that I knew I was different from my classmates. I not only loved the way words rolled off my tongue, but I rather liked writing the words in my “Big Chief” tablet, as well.
While other kids gravitated toward the merry-go-round and teeter-totter (yes, that was before legalities and rigmarole), I was content to hunker down under my favorite shade tree with a pencil and tablet (and of course, my imagination.)
I created many a masterpiece under that ancient oak. I realized I was a budding wordsmith; it was okay to be different.
Even as a child, I recognized beauty in words and the pictures I could paint with them. The thought made me deliriously happy, especially when I realized that adults could be authors, too.
I was told that some grown-ups made a living by writing books.
Really?!
That thought caused my mind to swim with new possibilities. Could I, too, one day write books?
Mrs. Ellis, my high school journalism teacher, seemed to think so. And as a member of the high school newspaper staff, I convinced myself that I was well on my way.
Ahem…
I had a lot to learn.
But thank God for the Mrs. Ellises and teachers like her who took (and take) the time to encourage, praise, and even bluntly assess.
Writers do what we do because someone, or maybe a lot of someones, envisioned the greatness in us before we did ourselves.
We write because we must, yes. But more importantly, we create stories because there is just no other way.
No other way to fuse words and thoughts and snippets of sound.
No other way to purge the cache of colors from our brains.
******
Writers, when did you realize you wanted to tell stories?
Readers, who has been instrumental in your life in pursuance of a dream?
Photo Credit: Stuart Miles/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Blessings Always,
Comments 13
I started playing around with writing fiction in my teens, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I decided to really give it a try. My mom has been my biggest cheerleader. She’s always encouraged me and seems to know just what to say to build me up when I’m feeling down. I’m blessed to have her.
Author
Jenny, my family’s my biggest support-system, too. My husband, especially, is one in a million! It sounds like your mother is a jewel.
Wait! Somehow I’ve missed out on those assistants bearing bon-bon laden trays … How is this possible?
:O)
Ah, Cynthia, love this post.
I couldn’t agree more that there is “No other way to fuse words and thoughts and snippet of sound.” And “No other way to purge the cache of colors in our brains.”
Yes, that’s why I write (too).
Author
Beth, perceptions of writers and our writing lives make me smile…most of the time. 🙂 And I know you well understand.
You and I are so much alike!!
I was in what you called the “blue bird” group at first, until the teacher realized that I wasn’t a slow reader, I just had slight dyslexia – thanks to her, I got the help I needed and was soon a “red bird.”
Dick and Jane, merry go round, and teeter totter wow – what memories you stirred up!
I wrote stories all of the time. A teacher told my mom that I would be a writer someday. Mom always encouraged me to write. When she passed, we found a folder with all of my stories from school – all the way back to 3rd grade. Mom had kept them. She was sure I was going to be a writer.
I finished my first book about 10 years ago, when she was dying. I whispered to her on her deathbed that I had written a book…she never really knew though.
Author
Loree, my heart clenched as I read your comment. My heartfelt condolences on the loss of your beloved mother. And I bet she did (does) know you’ve written a book. When my sweet Nana passed away years ago, I laid my head close to hers as she drew her last breath–a difficult, but precious time. I told her I loved her and that I would see her soon. There was actually a very brief response. (I understand that “hearing” is the last sense/response upon passing.)
I know your mother would be so proud of you.
Yes, we do seem to be twin spirits. I so long to hug your neck…
I’ve always loved to tell stories. I didn’t realize I wanted to be a writer until I was an adult. Painting with colors, not so much. But painting a picture that illuminates faith and hope. Well, that’s something I can do!
Author
Jess, I think you’re a natural-born storyteller. 🙂 I love the way you string words/phrases together and weave them into such beautiful word pictures.
Love this background info. You were BORN to be a writer!
LOL, Beth typed everything I was going to say! Great post, Cindy–yes, the need to write feels as fundamental as the need to breathe. Sometimes when I visit a new place, taste something amazing, have an experience that stirls my senses, I almost ACHE with the need to recreate it in words–share it. A friend once sent me a card (a photo of an old typewriter, with this quote from Anais Nin: “We write to taste life twice.” I think that says it for me.
Beth: when you find the bon-bon toting assistant, see if she’ll fit me into her schedule too.
Author
Candy, for so long, I wondered if I was an odd duck, for who else could actually “taste” and “feel” the words their hearts ached to birth? So thankful that I now realize I’m not the only one! (And about those bon-bons… LOL!)
I was also in the Redbird group and I’m so old that my books starred Alice and Jerry. I too, always pretended to write a book, but my first books of poetry came out after I had lost both parents (and after I retired from government work and started my real life-writing). Mom helped me write my very first poem when I was in grade school-she would have loved seeing me in print!
Author
Thena, what a lovely memory of your mother fanning your creative flame! Congratulations on your accomplishments and blessings on your continued pursuits.