I Write. Therefore, I Am.

"I shall live badly if I do not write,

and I shall write badly if I do not live."

-Francoise Sagan,

playwright and novelist

1935-2004

(This blog post of several months ago now inadvertently "republished.")

I remember as a young teenager keeping diaries, journals, not a daily thing, but when the SPIRIT MOVED me to write. I would write about feelings, events, family, accomplishments, relationships; a potpourri of seasons of myself punctuated with poetry, letters, and lyrics.

I remember buying hardbound journals at office supply stores for my writings, illustrating them from time to time with sketches, photos, mementos, ticket stubs, even pressed dried flowers.

From my early years, somehow I knew that "words" -- writing, in one form or another -- would become a meaningful and lasting part of my future, both in my personal life as well as my professional life. I seemed to have an insatiable desire to write, to document, to capture, preserve...

A means with which to memorialize the events of my life with a permanency.

As a mom to three sons, I suspect that I have become more introverted over the years. Gone is the urgency to converse, express, share or release outwardly. Let’s face it.  Guys don't say a lot.  They are often monosyllabic in their communication attempts.  Brevity is the objective.  The less you say, the better.   The necessity to talk just to fill the void of silence?  Nah.  To speak just to "take the stage?"  Nah.  No need.  In our house, if you don't have something really important to say, then you just don't say much at all.   Details are the clashing cymbals of conversation.

I will often compare my reticence to other women. Regardless of their age, they all seem to prattle on far more than I care to. Fascinating.  At times it seems their loquaciousness goes on and on and on... And on.

I frequently will find myself scrambling to process in cliff-note fashion their circuitous conversations.

It can be challenging.  It's all I can do to suppress the urge to say:  "Hold up! Hold up...."

Just give me the gist.

Is there a point to any of this?

Am I supposed to be impressed by that?

Do you have something to say? Really?

Or do you just, um, enjoy hearing yourself talk?

Maybe that is why writing has evolved into an even stronger release for me.

I don't need anyone to "hear" me.  Or to listen particularly.  Or to pass judgment, compliment, criticize, or compare.  I just want to get my thoughts out of my brain, my head, my heart, and onto paper. Unleashed into a repository.  I just need to write it down.  Freedom to purge.

Cleansed. Emptied. Defragged.  It lends a sharper focus to my inner perspectives.

Fast-forward to the 21st century.  My journaling now is done via the World Wide Web.
I'm a blogger.
(I've never liked that word.)

Writer

Scribe
Reporter
Wordsmith

Okay.  All of these work too.

writer - n.

1. A person who composes with language.

2. A person engaged in writing books, articles, stories; a clerk, scribe or the like

3. A person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc., to writing.

All that matters is that I write. I write; therefore I am ...