Last week, I finished two classes with the South Florida Center for the Literary Arts. One was a memoir-writing course that had me delve into the deepest parts of myself and reveal secrets only God knew about. The other was a class on writing the great American novel and getting it published.
Both classes taught me more about myself as a writer. I learned that I have a looong way to go, but at least I’m on the way. It took a lot for me to share my words with strangers. Though I don’t know every person who reads this blog, I’m pretty familiar with most of my audience.
The final assignment for my Memoir U course was to write a personal essay or short narrative on why you write. Before taking this class, I had never even thought about it. I pondered long, and hard and came up with this:
When I close my eyes, I see words. When I open them, I want to describe every detail around me. I write so the voices in my head can stop fussing and start having a civil conversation. I analyze and over think; then, I write more. I write because sometimes it stops the tears. Writing documents joyous occasions. Writing ministers to the hurt in ways I can never understand. When I write I am free. I write to breathe. I write to share. I write to be of purpose.
I’ve been writing since I can remember. Always coming up with characters, ideas, thoughts, and dreams…
Writing allows me to create life. My writing creates love. It is a regurgitation of an inner power given to me by God!
Written word has been an avenue of effective communication. Sometimes I can write better than I can speak.
I write because my words have power… God-given power.
I write because I have to.
If I don’t write how will anyone know I’ve ever existed?
Writing helps me leave my mark.
Writing keeps me on track, shows me where I’ve been and how far I have to go.
I write because I live. I live to write.