The Audacity of Writing


Words marring white.

Pain overflowing onto paper.

Pouring out a story I never knew I had inside me.

Why do I write?

Why would I have the audacity to believe that anyone so small, so insignificant as myself could have something worth listening to?

I’ve never been able to answer that question. I don’t know if I ever will.

I’ve written since my tiny fingers could form scribbled letters with a wobbly pencil.

When I was very young- maybe about 6- I wrote my first “book.” It was about ten sheets of construction paper, folded together to look like a book. It was written about another 6 year old (go figure) who had a horse farm and lived happily ever after.

I never questioned why I decided to write.

And when I had written a short novel by the time I was ten, I never really wondered why I had written it.

I wrote because it was inside me and I couldn’t hold it there. I wrote because it was my story to tell, but it was beyond that. It was other people- other stories I had to tell, not because they were mine, but precisely because they weren’t.

Words fascinated me. As a young child, I read books- I read new books, I read old books, I read trash, I read classics, I read church-approved books, I read books I had to hide under my pillow, I read kids books, I read adult books.

Ideas fascinated me.

People fascinated me.

God fascinated me.

Love fascinated me.

Conflict- not action movie conflict, not wars- but conflict of ideas, of individuals, of expectations- fascinated me.

The first novel I wrote (mentioned earlier) was scrawled into a girl purple notebook. But unlike the ordinary nine-and-ten-year-olds, this was no longer horses and happily-ever-after. I wrote a story of passionate jealousy in a child whose family had adopted other children.

I didn’t realize it then, but it was my way to deal with the jealousy I had for my own older brother.

So I guess that’s another reason.

I write to process emotion.

I write because I love words.

I write because I love to wrestle with ideas.

I write for all these reasons, but most of all, I write because I have to. Because it’s who I am, fundamentally.

Why do you write?


2 thoughts on “The Audacity of Writing

  1. Very nice writing. Good to see other give glory to God. Very encouraging. Good luck with the blog. I am new and trying to get in the swing of things. Hope all is well…………. I write because I can’t imagine keeping all these thoughts, feelings, emotions, and passion that I feel by having the Holy Spirit inside of me working. It’s amazing and I love to see what the Spirit has in store for me each day.

    1. Thanks for the encouragement.
      And your reasons for writing… I can totally identify. It’s not that I ever planned to be a writer; it’s just impossible to keep this mass of emotions and passions inside me.
      Happy writing!

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