As I dumped yet another head full of ideas into another potential blog, I asked myself, “Why do I write?” It’s a question that comes up as I pen my 10th draft, another evolving wordy infant, in a growing queue of gently nurtured babies, patiently awaiting the right kind of encouragement from their creator to take their first step. So why have the 10 infants not yet made the move into first grade and been published? Well it’s because for their caregiver, the writing process can at times, be like a burning itch, or a completely distracting urge to unleash yet another burst of neural ideas onto paper, before the untamed rush petered out into a fizzle. It’s what happens when an “ideas person”, (read, Chronic Thinker) wakes up each day, stopping temporarily when one goes to sleep, but even then, vivid dreams can unleash potential fodder. Ideas, solutions and intuitions rush in, uninvited into the draft box, with another dose of raw material, awaiting a spit and polish so that they can be birthed into the Blogasphere.
As I try to finish this post, another rush of blood to the head spawns another embryonic idea and potential post. But I resist the urge to open yet another blank page, because today, I promised myself to try something called, completion. Note to self: explore concept of completion in next draft.
So what is it about the writing process that has given rise to a plethora of blogs, gently nudging closet writers out of their hiding spots, and finally taking a precarious step into the spotlight? And why not just write in a journal I ask myself? It’s that itch. I write everywhere, the back of receipts, empty toilet rolls, cardboard boxes, whatever makes itself available when “the urge” strikes. But why? Because behind the itch, behind the urge, there is an unnamable drive to share stories. It’s the need to share the nanoseconds that coagulate into a life, experiences that have been earned through joyous luck, or searing pain, sometimes both at the same time.
Apart from being inundated with ideas, the most important reason my work has remained hidden, is that I wondered who would want to read this? Yesterday, a soul-sista shared wisdom which I hope inspires all wanna-be bloggers and writers. She said, “Your particular way with words, might be on the same wavelength that reaches that one person who is feeling completely lost and isolated right now. Why wouldn’t you want to reach out and help her?” I know that feeling of isolation and emptiness, and what it means to have just one soul who says, I see you.
As we become increasingly isolated in our ever-expanding cities, our lives have become more condensed and our ability to support and share with each other, slowly eroding. It is through our shared narratives of walking our often precarious paths, that we feel a sense of belonging and connection. My hope is that through my writing, ideas and inspirations, I may help another person walking a similar path, facing similar joys and sorrows and everything in between. It’s the reason many of my posts are written in cyberspace and not my journal.
So, for that one person who might gain some comfort from a shared experience, I’m getting over my own self-doubt, and exploring this place called courage, as I begin to release my babies out into the world, in the hope that they may nurture, encourage and support a fellow traveller.