The Journey of a Writer (Part 6)
The Relationship With Writing
Why do I write?
What is my relationship with my writing?
When I was younger, writing was a way to express myself. To get out all the pent-up emotions and frustrations boiling inside me. But it was also something very private. It was only for me — the deep, deep, deep down me that no one was allowed to see. Knowing that being seen by the world wasn’t always safe. I wasn’t safe to show myself. Or so I thought.
For me, writing was always associated with reading. Stories were my salvation, my escape, my hope, my teachers, my mentors. I fell in love. With characters. With worlds. With relationships, all penned on paper.
And then I reached deep down and recognized that I wanted to be a writer, or maybe even an author. That is, if I was brave enough to let my words out of the private prison, or sanctuary, that I kept them in.
I found that other authors, poets and writers — they were my people. My tribe. Maybe hiding my words was the same as hiding myself. For I was a shy, introverted kid. But there was this part of me that didn’t want to hide. Who wanted, no needed, to be heard and to speak my truth. Not for everyone else, but for me.
