Love At First ‘Write’?

What motivates me to keep writing

I've had a complicated relationship with the word ‘writer’ in the past. At times, I felt it described exactly who I am. At others, it felt like a cruel tease of something I aspired to but hadn’t yet reached.

While the term ‘writer’ carries emotional expectations, the motivation to write has always been clear. Why I write has little to do with my desire to be a ‘writer’, and everything to do with the hunger for release.

The beginning

In the second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Evans, announced she was going to read a story in front of the class. There was a writing prompt the previous week, and she wanted to read her favorite.

I was looking down at my desk, drawing on my paper, retracing the letters in my last name. Until I heard, “We had an unusual Christmas surprise…” and I looked up, shocked. It was my story. A story about how we had found a stray cat and my parents let us keep him. I beamed as Mrs. Evans read it aloud.

In the fourth grade, I moved to a new school in a new state. I didn’t know anybody and was still navigating the awkward social dance of finding friends in a new environment. There was a sign-up in the hall for a new club called ‘Power of the Pen.’ It was a writing club that did timed writing once a week. Club members also competed at a state writing competition at the end of the school year. I submitted a few drafts of stories I had written for school and was accepted. It was the first time I thought of writing as anything other than a fun hobby.

Competing distractions

Although writing had been my ‘thing’, somewhere between fifth grade and college, I forgot that I wrote. Or rather, I forgot that I loved it. I still wrote papers for school and the occasional journal entry, but I forgot to ‘do’ it. I forgot to be a writer. The desire for writing lay still, unused and underappreciated until I graduated.

It was at my first job interview, for my first “real” job, when my interviewer asked: “What is it that you love to do?” “Write,” I answered, without hesitation. I surprised myself and the interviewer. The job, which I didn’t get, had nothing to do with writing. I wasn’t sure where my answer had come from, but it came so readily I started to wonder.

I had loved writing as a kid, so what happened? Why did I stop?

I didn’t have an answer, but aware again, I let writing creep back into my life. I started paying attention when I wrote and taking time to craft what I wanted to say, whether it was journaling, short stories, or creative cover letters.

I felt the need to use it as a tool.

I felt I needed it to feel more like myself.

Why I write

I got a job in fundraising, and then another. I wasn’t exactly writing short stories, but I needed to tell a story to pitch for funding. After fundraising, I moved to communications. My jobs were even more steeped in writing and approaching things from creative angles.

Now, I would say I’m a Communications Expert who writes. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I’m so frustrated by it I want to give it up. But, regardless of which emotion I’m feeling, the one constant is that I know I need it. I need to write.

Writing helps me clear my thoughts. It helps me understand myself. It helps me process emotions and experiences.

Without writing, the anxiety, stress, confusion, pressure, joy, and exhilaration of everyday life would bubble out of me in unconstructive ways. Writing helps give me control over my experiences.

Becoming a writer feels complicated, but what motivates me to write is simple. Sure, I have goals of publishing articles on Medium and writing the next Pultizer prize-winning novel. But that’s not what makes me put pen to paper in the end.

What makes me write is simpler than that.

I need it.

Thanks for reading, and thanks to Sheryll James for the great writing prompt.