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Why I Write Every Day

And the Rewards That Come With Creation

“Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

I used to write because I lacked the skills to effectively communicate through my words — my audible words. I had so much emotional energy pent up inside me, but I refused to talk about it out loud, because speaking my truths filled with sorrow made things real, and I wanted to keep living in a fanciful world. But at the same time, hearing my truths filled with sorrow made things surreal, as if the words I heard as I spoke were not my own, and definitely not consistent with the life in which I was living.

I wrote. I wrote in journals. I wrote on my notes during lectures. I wrote when I woke up, to document my dreams. I wrote notes on my phone, while out and about in the city. I wrote on the scraps of paper, floating aimlessly around my mind. I wrote before falling asleep and sometimes, more accurately, I wrote instead of falling asleep. I wrote until my heart had bled itself dry, and then I wrote some more, not even stopping when my hands hurt so bad, cramping from the pressure…