“Thomas Hobbes’ description of life could equally apply to writing. It is indeed “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” To that list, I would add: unpleasant, burdensome, enervating.
The process of writing is roundabout, clunky, and halting. The lopsided nature of the input (the grueling exertion) versus the output (the delicate page) is comically unjust.
Extracting the perfect word from the recesses of the subconscious is similar to pulling gum from one’s hair: all pain, little progress. It is excruciating, awkward, and leads to its fair share of stomping and shouting. Frustrated and lost, the writer inevitably turns to omniscient, omnipresent Google to find synonyms and etymologies that satiate the itch of ideation. Alas, it’s no good googling an inkling or a feeling.
But yet, I write. Because for me, writing contains multitudes.”
“Why do I do this to myself?” My answer would have been "well, because we love it and can't help ourselves." That is, by choice. "For, it is only through my writing that I can partake in the communication robbed of me by my Tourette syndrome." Thank you for offering a vulnerable and moving take on the importance and value of writing to communicate when other avenues close.
So many gems that feel perfect. Maybe one of my favorite pieces of yours (a hard task to choose!) 🙏🏾
Thank you, Surya!
A day without writing is a wasted day, in my view. Thank you for articulating with such eloquence what writing means to writers.
Thank you, Amy. I agree, I always find the page adds to my experience of the day.
I love this. Sharing why I write as well:
“Thomas Hobbes’ description of life could equally apply to writing. It is indeed “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” To that list, I would add: unpleasant, burdensome, enervating.
The process of writing is roundabout, clunky, and halting. The lopsided nature of the input (the grueling exertion) versus the output (the delicate page) is comically unjust.
Extracting the perfect word from the recesses of the subconscious is similar to pulling gum from one’s hair: all pain, little progress. It is excruciating, awkward, and leads to its fair share of stomping and shouting. Frustrated and lost, the writer inevitably turns to omniscient, omnipresent Google to find synonyms and etymologies that satiate the itch of ideation. Alas, it’s no good googling an inkling or a feeling.
But yet, I write. Because for me, writing contains multitudes.”
More: https://www.whitenoise.email/p/why-i-write
Thank you for sharing!
“Why do I do this to myself?” My answer would have been "well, because we love it and can't help ourselves." That is, by choice. "For, it is only through my writing that I can partake in the communication robbed of me by my Tourette syndrome." Thank you for offering a vulnerable and moving take on the importance and value of writing to communicate when other avenues close.