I write because I love words. I appreciate talking with words, but the letters, shapes, meanings, history, and power of words have always fascinated me. Games such as Scrabble, word search puzzles, and old fashioned Hang Man really turn me on. In fact, if a suitor wants something special out of me, he is wise to utilize words spoken and written to spark desire in me on all levels. Words turn me on.
Writing has been my preferred means of communication since elementary school. I found that I could express myself more clearly and to greater numbers if I wrote my thoughts rather than talked about them. Some people are talkers. I’m a writer and it’s probably because I’m a reader with an opinion about something I’ve read by some other writer.
I’m a writer because writing makes sense to my brain. And it lasts. I’m concerned about memories not lasting. I had trouble remembering things for school when I was a child and my mother encouraged me to write everything down to help me remember. Diaries and journals and stories and poems grew from those efforts. Now she can’t remember the name of a movie she is watching for the tenth time. I’m sad because she never kept a journal. We will never know what she thought or did or wanted or feared, but my family and my readers will have no doubt what I cared about because I write it all down.
Writing down ideas and stories almost guarantees that my point as a person will stick. It will continue to matter to me and to those who read it after I’m moved forward into the next dimension of this journey. We all have a point (a purpose) and everyone is entitled to engraving their point on the cosmos by writing it down. And that is the point of writing.
What’s your point?