Willing to Write

When people ask me what I do and I respond that I’m a writer, I often wonder if they really get what I’m saying. After all, what is writing?

Webster defines writing as, “the act of a person or thing that writes.” Not sure about you, but I think that’s a cop out. That’s like saying that running is the activity of a person or thing that runs. Or that breathing is the action of a person or thing that breathes.

Writing is much more emotionally charged and spiritually driven than that traditional, scholastic explanation. It’s more than simply the act of one who writes, because it’s more organic, more fluid, more alive.

I think a better definition of writing is: the desperate attempt of a confused craftsman to communicate his (or her) emotions, beliefs, experiences, convictions, sense of humor, imagination or perspectives in such a way that anyone willing to read it can actually begin to feel it.

When someone writes, they are opening up their soul and displaying the very nature of their being on the page. And it doesn’t matter what they write – blogs, blurbs, novels, poems, plays, songs.

To move an idea from your head to the page takes courage and a willingness to subject yourself to any number of reactions – from praise to ridicule to apathy (which is worse that ridicule). It’s a humbling act that either results in clarity or cloudiness. And it’s a desperate plea to communicate something so intimate and personal that most people shy away from ever really writing anything at all.

The reality is that all of us could be writers. The question is, are we willing?