“You can make anything by writing.” — C.S. Lewis
Every morning, every evening, every free minute of my day. The question bounces around within me. What shall I write today?
The options are limitless, the possibilities are endless. Like the ocean stretching out in front of me when I stand by the shore.
I could write about a young girl and her family who crash-landed on Earth a decade ago, during a vacation to another planet.
I could write about my three best tips for living your most productive life.
I could write about how I have no plan for what I’m going to do once I’m on the other side of the dissertation I’m currently writing.
I could write about writing itself like I’m doing right now. How meta, eh? Fiction, non-fiction and everything in between.
And therein lies the joy of writing, the beauty of it, the thing about it that makes my heart sing.
It’s like flying. You can spread your wings and fly anywhere — far away to lands unknown or deep within you to uncharted territories of your own being.
Writing makes me feel like I’m flying. And I’ve always wanted to fly.
You know the kind I mean. Not the sort that involves being strapped to a tiny (or if you have more money, medium sized) seat in a metal bird with tiny windows to peer out of. No.
I mean flying on the strength of your own wings.
Flying up above the clouds with the wind blowing your hair back and this gorgeous planet spread out in every direction underneath you.
Up where the wind breathes new hope into your being and your only companions are the birds soaring next to you.
That’s why I love writing. That’s why I write. Because it means I get to fly.
And if it makes you feel like you’re flying, then pick up your pen and take flight, my fellow human.
Take flight and don’t you land until you’ve had your fill. Yes, that may never happen, and you’ll simply go on writing and flying for as long you exist.
What could be lovelier?