This week in English class, we were able to read about and share amongst ourselves why we write (Thank’s to it being national “Why I write” day). A particular text that stood out to me was an excerpt from RED: Passion and Patience in the Desert by Terry Tempest Williams. In the photo taken above, I’ve listed the many reasons I was able to come up with to explain why I write. The first sentence is the one that stood out to me from Williams’s writing the most and, coincidentally, it was also the sentence I read aloud in class.
When you see the phrase “Why I write” it seems almost trivial, you wouldn’t give it a second look if unprompted. However, since I actually had to sit down and devote a portion of my time to delve into this question I became to become more and more perplexed. How come I had never asked my self why I write? In fact, why do I even write at all? Is it because I must for the sake of my education? No. There’s more. On that note, not just writing, but why do I do any of the things I do? These were the questions that came flooding into my mind in a flurry of thoughts as I sat there, pen in hand, just thinking.
Once we were able to share with each other in the class, I was able to see some similarities between myself and my peers. I was able to make at least some order out of the chaos in my head. W had several reasons in common, ranging from “I write to communicate” or “I write because I want to.” However, in the end it was the reasons that did not align which I now think define who I really am. I write to make my imagination tangible. I write to build upon newly developed ideas. I write…to create.