calliope, calliope 2018

writing is my calm

photo credits here

by yvette

At first, i was looking to write a lengthy, meaningful essay-like piece where I poured out my sentiments and feelings about why I write. Reasons like “to create something that outlives me” or “to let others see the world how I see it”, but I realised that while these are perfectly valid reasons, they simply did not apply to me.

I guess you could say my writing is selfish in a sense that I only do it to help myself out; to get me out of my own head. I write to get a tangible feel of my emotions, to organise my thoughts. I write to note down a precious memory that I don’t want to forget. I write for me.

And that’s part of the reason why letting others’ read my work is quite difficult for me (ironic considering that I’m in journalism). To me, writing is private. Every piece of writing that I put even an ounce of effort into contains a part of me; some part of my mind that I wish to jot down for myself to recall some time in the future. Every fictional narrative that I write has an element of my actual life woven into it. Letting others read my work is like revealing a part of myself that no one else really knows.

In other words, I suppose you could say that writing to me is like thinking, and you don’t always want to let others know your every thought. I write so that my mind calms down and I can visualise every thought either on a screen or a blank sheet of paper. I don’t like the feeling of my mind spiralling out of control; thought after thought coming at me faster than I can even acknowledge them.

At times like that, I sit down with a laptop and write pieces for only my eyes to read. And, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think that what I produce in situations like those is very good. But I write whatever pops into my mind, and I don’t stop until after my mind is empty, when all my nagging thoughts have been transferred elsewhere.

After that, it’s like I’ve categorized my thoughts into separate compartments in my head. Writing to me is like a gentle but firm massage on sore shoulders; a deep slumber after a long, tiring day. To me, writing is my calm.

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