Why write?

The thing about writing is dubious at best. I can’t sit here, as I am typing this, and say that I understand it fully. What is obvious by just looking at my profile, is that there are many, if not everyone, more successful than me on this website alone. I can’t break through 100 followers, which is fine, given that it is a page for my students anyway, but still. There is some hope. Not of fame or glory, but of recognition.

I love to write. I have been doing it for fun since I was a kid. I wrote comics for my friends, short novels for family members, and horror for… well, to be honest, only I liked those. At any rate, the main reason I entered the life of a translator, later on of a teacher, is because I love to write. This love extends to many other mediums, such as movies, books, plays, screenplays, scripts, and short films; you name it.

The ambition, the aspiration, just as well as the inspiration were always there. It never faltered. No matter what project comes next, I try to find a way to put writing into it.

But why? Why do I still bother?

Maybe it lacks captivation. Maybe I complain too much. Maybe what I think it’s interesting, is just mundane or even clichê.

Nonetheless, I still do it. Hell, I will be doing it for the rest of my life, be that tomorrow or fifty years from now. As we fade away, what we created lingers on, as long as there is at least one person to see it.

I have friends with very similar aspirations. One of them, an actual accomplished writer, with published books and screenplays, has talked to me about this whole process. Be that because of the country, where we came from, or our talent or lack thereof, it’s certainly not easy to appease in letters.

For instance, I like to read a lot on this website. I am following a bunch of other people who, just like me, like to do it. I bet that all of the people that I follow, even the most successful ones in means of followers, would be doing it regardless of the payoff. To me, this is just like drawing, music, or dancing. Once you know you can do it, there are very few other things that you’d rather be spending your time on.

The worst thing when it comes to writing though, is to actually do it. Sometimes, words flow through you like you’re taking dictation. At others, you feel like there’s nothing left to squeeze out of you. To me, that’s when all the mediums come along.

Games, movies, books, conversations, travels, well, again; you name it. Anything that you can do which helps you delve into a new perspective, see things a different way, or something of the sort might take you off your writer’s block. Sometimes, however, other authors, especially really good ones, might make you depressed. “How could they have written such a masterful segment?”, “Will I ever be able to come up with such brilliance?”, among other questions will pop up in your head when reading the masters.

In conclusion, whatever your reason to write may be, let’s just hope you’d be doing it for no reason at all if that were the case.