There are words made of letters unwritten, and yes — I forgive you for leading me on.

I write when I feel like it, because I feel I have something to say.

I write because it’s a familiar way to express myself, through words written and re-written and carefully crafted to mean what I want them to.

I write because it’s a way to take unfamiliar things and make them familiar.

I write because as I repeat the spelling of “familiar” for the fourth time, I understand that I take thought-strangers and make them mind-family by thoroughly thinking things through.

I write because it’s what I do, because it’s what I love.  It probably won’t ever pay my bills, and it may not always be well-received, but that’s not the point.

Sometimes I write about simple things, sometimes deep and difficult issues… but I write what I know, I write my truth.

When I write I use the words that I mean to use, and will not substitute something obtuse where I need to make a fine point. I strive to follow the advice given by one of my favorite authors, Julie Anne Peters, who exhorts aspiring authors to:

Write honestly and fearlessly, even when your words invite censorship or controversy.

I write because I know that others read what I write, and because I have read things by others who explore in words the things we cannot easily confront in reality — and because often my growth, my understanding of self and of what it means to be human, is made possible by those explorations, by the unsettling questions and unsettled discussions they provoke.

I write to shake shit up — because when it all just settles… so do I.

And I’m not willing to settle.


(This entry was inspired and influenced by this post by Remittance Girl and the discussion in the comments. Check her out!)

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