Sunday, December 5, 2010

To write.

This past October marks the one year anniversary of my becoming an english major. It's been the best decision of my entire college career, switching from political science to english. I love political science. I love learning about political theory and international diplomacy, but I could never ever be one of those people who sold their first-born to work on a political campaign, or have crushes on Newt Gengrich. Now, I don't have to.

A couple weeks ago, I finished reading The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. I liked the book as a whole, but I was a bit disappointed. I was expecting to walk away from it wanting to change the world with my writing, but I didn't. Instead, her book made me look at why I want to write.

I don't consider myself a writer, per se. I feel like calling myself a writer would be like someone taking an acting class and calling themselves a thespian. I like to write, and I know I'm not terrible at it, but I don't feel worthy of calling myself a writer. At best, I'm an amateur, aspiring writer.

I like to write for the same reasons everyone else like to write. I like forming images and concepts for other people to enjoy. I like using language and techniques that I've never used before. I like pushing my mind's envelope, etc.

Anyways, and I'm only just now realizing this, I like writing because I can't talk.

For a long time now, I've had this verbal dyslexia type of a thing going on. I trip over words all the time. It's the most frustrating thing in the world sometimes. I know exactly what I want to say in my head, but getting it out of my mouth never works out the way I want it to. I don't have to worry about any of that when I'm writing, though. I can manipulate words to my heart's desire, and people know exactly what I mean. It's a huge release, actually, not worrying about how my mouth will contort something.

Anywho, there it is. I figured it out.

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