Why I Write

George Orwell started it. Joan Didion continued it. Three simple words strung together as a title that answers the question: Why do you write? I borrowed the above title from Orwell’s and Didion’s essays. In both cases, imitation in art is flattery in form. But replication ends with the title. It must end with the title. Because those three words - why I write - introduce an answer that is made possible only by an act of creation, not imitation. For the sake of a title, John can copy Joan. Joan can copy George. And George can be copied until the end of time. But replication stops where reflection starts. 

The implied question that why you write answers requires us to reflect. In that reflection, I discover that one of the reasons I write is to . . . reflect. In that discovery, I come to understand that one of the reasons I write is to . . . discover. In that understanding, I come to a realization that one of the reasons I write is to . . . understand. In that realization, I acquire an awareness of the fact that through writing I can . . . gain a realization . . . of all this and more.

But the main, overarching realization is that this thing called writing is going to lead me down a path to my own unique understanding. An understanding of truth and myself in relation to that truth. What I think, and what I come to believe based on clear, reasoned thinking, can then be shared with others and shape what they think. My words take on a life; a life that can extend in time and space well beyond my temporal and spatial existence. My words become my legacy.

As a linguist fancying myself as a language engineer, I like to examine the individual function of component parts to broaden my overall understanding of how the ‘machine’ works. In that spirit, I make sense of the above outlook of writing, and why I write, by breaking it down into: Why. I. Write.

The ‘Why‘ - Process and Possibilities

Why implies motivation. What is the motivation to pick up the pen, tap on the keyboard, or press against your device screen with your fingers or stylist? For me, it starts with the art and act of writing as a process.

By art and act of writing, I mean the intentional process of working through words and structure to create meaning, to concretely lay out ideas on paper, to see logical relationships, to sometimes extract and expand and other times contract and distill, to be forced to make sense of it all for yourself and others.

Doing all this with the ultimate aim being an unknown reader’s approval, understanding, persuasion, potential rebuttal, motivation to act or not act, and judgment of you as a thinker and person forces us to be all the things that writing demands that we be: clear but not overly simplistic, concise but thorough, empathetic but discerning, understanding but demanding, impartial but authentic, and rhetorical yet ethical. 

Writing forces me to be mindful of all these factors and be razor sharp in my thoughts. I want to make connections and write to make them explicit. I want to think critically and write clearly. I want to be creative and write in a way that is memorable. I want to be playful and have fun with word. If I am all these things as a writer, then you become all these things as my reader.

The why for me is also connected to the opportunity in writing. We have never, at any time in human history, had more access to more ways to write that reach more people. We write more than ever, and it is disseminated on a scale that is virtually limitless. Endless opportunity entails boundless possibility. The number of people that might eventually read the sentence I am writing right now is as big as one can dream it to be. And what they are reading is a piece of me. This brings me to the I in ‘Why I Write.’

The ‘I’ - Sharing My Unique Voice

The I in writing is all about me. But isn’t writing always about me at its core? Me, myself, and I. After all, I am the writer. I am always the writer. My topic, my audience, my purpose, and my situation differs in each writing act, and each is ultimately linked to me on a deeply intrinsic level; the mode, genre, and medium in which I write also differs in each writing act; however, the success of each depends on my strengths and my motivations. 

I am initially alone in discovering and making sense of the I. But this solitude is only temporary and, I think, necessary. The I will eventually join the party - eventually join the conversation. But first, the I needs to find the path to itself. We must write to consider and make sense of who we are and why we think and act as we do. Toward this aim, I write so that I can reflect, so that I can discover, so that I can understand.

I then can ask the question: Is my unique experience in and understanding of the world such that its expression through writing can shape others? The exciting answer is: yes, of course it can! A part of me - my voice, my story - can be shared with the world beyond. This brings me to the final act, the write of ‘Why I Write.’

The ‘Write’ - Words That Endure

My why of writing is based on the process of discovery and understanding, and the inherent opportunity in writing. My I of writing is the sharing of this understanding to benefit and influence others. The final product of writing, and its potential projection, is where the write part comes in. The art and act of writing as a process and mechanism leads to a product that exist tangibly on a page or screen. This is critically important.

Consider writing in contrast to another art and act of communication - speaking. Speaking has both spatial and temporal restrictions. Your speech exists as sound waves that travel only as far as someone can receive them, to say nothing of others needing to be willing recipients in real time or the moment is lost (“I’m sorry, what did you say?”). Yes, you can record speech, but that is not a natural (or normal) function inherent to the act of speaking in the way that transcription of words is an inherent function of writing. 

In writing you have a representation of your understanding of something that expresses your voice. A tangible piece of you. And in the written form it can endure. It can (and will) outlive you because written words have a life of their own - a life that is timeless and not bound by my physical presence. What I write can endure.

‘Why I Write’ - Leaving My Fingerprints

The question ‘why do you write?’ is not particularly remarkable or provocative. The title ‘Why I Write,’ flattering imitation of Orwell notwithstanding, is not particularly remarkable or hook-worthy. However, the answer to why I write is noteworthy. It can be remarkable; it can be expansive; it can be deep; it can be enduring. It can be all these things because writing, unlike almost any other human activity, is boundless.

We all write in the same way that we all have fingers. What is written is the fingerprints left behind. It is a unique expression that is one of a kind. As an act of creation, what is written can be anything we want it to be. The beauty is that it belongs to you, but the instant it is written belongs to everyone.

Through writing I can create something that might benefit someone. If I write to make change, I might make change. If I write to shape others, I might shape others. If I write and it endures, then I have left a legacy. I have left my fingerprints. For everyone. That is why I write.