On Writing

I have some hobbies-photography and astronomy chief among them, but only one passion. That passion, as I'm sure you would have guessed already, is story telling. I would say writing is it, but I see no value in writing for solely myself. I see no point in journaling and I'm terrible at keeping one; yet I post on here with great frequency because it is my way of sharing my words and my world with others. Even my poetry, which is the most intimate and least shared format, is ultimately meant for the eyes of others, as well as myself. I get great pleasure when others read my work and that is also why I am the most critical of it. If others aren't happy with what I put forth, then I am not happy with my own creation. It's a simple and as powerful as that. 

In the real world, actions speak louder than words, yet when pen meets paper, the implications can be world-changing. For instance, the Declaration of Independence was an act of treason so heinous against the British government that they all would have been executed, had they lost the war. Not one of the individuals who signed it did it lightly; which makes the giant signature by John Hancock that much more of an act of defiance. The ever-idolized Shakespeare lived only for 52 years, yet his works are still venerated centuries after his death. Plato and Aristotle lived long before the birth of Christ, yet both are still the bar to which philosophers rate themselves against. Mein Kampf, a book written by Hitler while he was in prison, would eventually lead to his rise to power and the extermination of the majority of Jews in Europe. The pen truly is mightier than the sword. 

Another way to look at it is the comparison with words and garbage. When they are carelessly thrown around (slang, poor grammar, cheap greeting cards) they become like litter and turn  ugly, like an eye sore. Too much useless language and now you have a landfill of meaninglessness (such as romance novels, pointless Facebook statuses, and terrible Hollywood sequels). They can easily turn something beautiful into something tarnished and ugly. 

I fully understand the implications of my words. Sure, I can be careless as the next person when I speak them, but when it is in the written format (not counting my own banal Facebook statuses and Tweets) I do what I can to make them into an art form. If magic were real, this would be my special brand of it. With pen to paper or keystrokes to screen, I can and do create entire worlds from nothing. Lives are born and perish just as easily. I can freeze time, create a city on Mars, and bring forth deities from my own imagination. With great power comes great responsibility and I am the first to admit that I am my worst critic when it comes to my writing. Which is also why I leave editing to others-otherwise if left in my own hands, I can turn a masterpiece into a slaughterhouse. I can't draw a picture, play an instrument, or even sculpt a simple bowl, but I can make you laugh until you cry or make your heartbreak and bring forth tears using just what I type. While I will never create the literary version of the Sistine Chapel, that doesn't mean I'm not going to try my hardest to.

To put it simply, I write because I have to and because I want to. It's both an addiction and a love affair I have had since as long as I can remember. It is the best way for me to express myself and, many times, the only way. This blog is a guilty pleasure of mine because I get instant gratification from it. I hit "post" and someone halfway across the world could read it. Just like that. The novel I am writing is going much slower because I want to take my time and make it right. It is much more important than my blog (in my own personal opinion and I mean no offense to you, dear readers) because of the craftsmanship I am putting into it. Yet once that is published and put forth into the world, I will move on to my next project, which will become another manuscript, which will become another book, or even series. Once you get the taste, you're hooked. Rest assured, I will not forsake this blog by any means, but you will finally be able to feast upon the banquet of my imagination.