I do not recall the first thing I ever wrote. I just remember that ever since I was a kid, I had a knack for writing. I would give rein to my wild imagination and create countless stories whether it’s an assignment for school or merely for my own recreational purposes. I found immense joy in creating my own stories and always opted for unique -usually rather unorthodox- themes.

As I grew up, writing continued to be a fundamental part of my being. It started to morph into other forms; it was no longer restricted to producing stories. In my adolescence, writing had become my favourable (and sometimes only) form of expression and communication. I found myself preferring writing to speaking or any other way involving direct interaction for that matter. My parents still keep the letters I wrote them during times of arguments, when I preferred writing letters to them apologising, explaining my stance and listing my post-fight resolutions rather than talking directly to them. I was simply more comfortable writing and I felt more heard.

And now as an adult my writing has evolved. I started writing about my thoughts, blogging and sharing my life contemplations. Whenever I felt inspired or compelled to translate my thoughts into words, I did. But it wasn’t easy getting to that place. I often struggled with the notion of publicly sharing my words and offering too much insight into my mind and soul. And sometimes, I still do. I would doubt the worth or content of one of my articles/pieces or maybe go back and forth not knowing whether I’m oversharing or not. I would also occasionally abandon my blog and at the same time get restless for not writing for long periods of time. At such times, I would start thinking about why I write in the first place. What are my motives? And what am I hoping to gain? What is the ultimate purpose?

And here is my answer; here is why I write:

• Writing is first and foremost a form of expression. Through it I express myself and accordingly I make sense of my surroundings. Writing helps me decode that whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and ideas in my head. A lot of times, it’s not until I write that I start to understand what I am thinking and feeling. Besides, writing serves as an uninhibited creative outlet.
• Writing is in itself an art form. It requires skill and talent to transform ideas into words and to capture their essence and convey them accurately without being boring and to simply have an effect on the reader. A well-written work is always worth admiring and appreciating, whether you agree with its content or not. A captivating writing style with good rhythm that conjures feelings and provokes thought is definitely art.
• I am a believer in the power of words and their impact and ability to cause change. There are endless examples of how books managed to change the lives of their readers or how some authors were influential enough to push societies in certain directions. And although I don’t see myself changing history through my words, yet on a smaller scale I believe that if I successfully manage to send a message across, inspire someone to make a positive change or merely provide food for thought, then I’m contributing and my writing matters.
• In a sense, writing is a means of human interaction. When the writer shares his/her experiences, thoughts or even feelings with the readers, a connection is formed. People could relate or identify with what the writer has written, they could find comfort in knowing that there are others out there going through similar experiences, they could learn a lesson or just gain a new perspective. And while such a motive might seem naive to some, I never take it lightly. If someone found comfort in my words or could relate in any sense, then I know that I have been useful and helped one way or another.
• Finally, writing could be fueled by purely selfish and egoistic reasons. In his essay entitled “Why I write”, George Orwell stated that one of the motives of writing is “sheer egoism”. The desire to be perceived as clever, to be respected and talked about, to be remembered after death and leave a legacy, etc. And I can’t deny that I enjoy receiving positive feedback or reviews about my work; and I do get that sense of fulfillment and contentment which I savour regardless of how fleeting or brief it is. So I guess, it is okay to feed one’s ego through writing. In the words of Orwell: “It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one.”

To conclude, writing is my solace. Whether I’m writing about my life contemplations, blogging or writing my heart and soul out in my private notebooks, I find joy in it. It is a part of my identity and who I am as an individual. For me, writing has always been the most eloquent and genuine form of communication. And no one put it better than Gloria E. Anzaldúa when she wrote:

Why am I compelled to write?… Because the world I create in the writing compensates for what the real world does not give me. By writing I put order in the world, give it a handle so I can grasp it. I write because life does not appease my appetites and anger… To become more intimate with myself and you. To discover myself, to preserve myself, to make myself, to achieve self-autonomy. To dispel the myths that I am a mad prophet or a poor suffering soul. To convince myself that I am worthy and that what I have to say is not a pile of shit… Finally I write because I’m scared of writing, but I’m more scared of not writing.