Why I Write

About a year ago, I made a decision to begin applying myself to the discipline of writing - an exercise that by and large I had set aside several years before due to other interests or preoccupations. Granted, you could say I never truly stopped writing, given that concept and documentation development is a major part of my job. But as an extracurricular activity, I was severely "out of practice." So I committed myself to the restoration of a personal pastime, in the hopes of regenerating and renewing what creative gifts I have. E-Walker's Parade represents that attempt.

I write in many voices. Sometimes I write conversationally, at other times I write academically (although differentiated from scholarly). I find these to be the most simple for me. Higher scholastic writing, along with what I describe as more literary or poetic voices, these are more difficult for me. Yet every so often, when the words come together on the page in just the right order and in just the right tenor, it leaves a flavor on the tongue that fills me with pleasure. While everyone who writes longs for some level of peer recognition of the product, it is certainly possible to enjoy the formulation without the praise of man.

Writing helps me to anatomize the content of my mind, the cacophony of thoughts that frequently clutter my consciousness. (Perhaps that phrasing is too magniloquent, but then again, even using the word magniloquent is in itself, magniloquent). These thoughts are ignited by what I read, what I see, and what I experience. As they take fire, so does the imagination. This fire is fed by an undeniable need to understand the abstract, to interpret what I observe, to emplace a framework that describes the discovery or revelation of a truth. Left within the mind though, even for the most disciplined among us, maintaining that framework over time can be a futile effort. It further calls into question whether my perceptions, formulations and conclusions truly have substance.

Allow me to put this another way. I shared the following paragraph in a different venue not long ago:

When we apply ourselves to the task of observation and discovery, being not afraid to ask why and how, the imagination roars to life. Yet this construct, even with a disciplined mind, remains in the abstract - until the moment pen is put to paper. Capturing these thoughts on paper not only refines, but allows for a level of self-scrutiny - do my observations, deliberations and conclusions hold up to the light of day? Are they defendable, are they understandable, are they beneficial? A painter paints, a writer writes. It is both art and skill, inherited and learned. Putting thought to paper captures that thought, and refinement and editing polishes that thought. Without the act of writing it down, you may find that the thought is never expressed the same way again.

I suppose, then, I write because the activity gives me pleasure, and I write because the result has a purpose or is "unto something." Like the runner who runs because "he needs to run," I write because I need to write. Let others judge the value of the effort as they see fit. I am enjoying myself, and coming from me, that is saying something.