I’m sure it’s happened to you. You’ve gotten distracted, lost focus, become preoccupied or other wise pulled away until before you know it months have gone by since you last did that thing you love to do. Me too! I love to write. I write to record my observations about life, love, joy, sorrow, gain, loss, temptation and contentment. Problem is there’s never enough time to both do what I write about and write about what I do. Today, I have the time and it feels good to be writing once again.
Writing isn’t just a past time for me. It’s my life, my breath. Writing is how I “deal”–the best way I know to sift through my feelings and communicate them to others in a reasonable and sane manner. It is, quiet literally, the way I process my world. I write. Sometimes the things I write are letters to other people (mostly in the form of emails these days, I must confess), but sometimes I write poems, skits, novellas, promotional pieces and grocery lists. Today, I’ve written letters to my contractors.
Writing a letter to one’s contractor and asking him to do something for you that he doesn’t want to do is the worst. I hate being pushy, and since most of the time I view my own critiques and comments as a passive form of pushiness, I’m uncomfortable with what I’ve had to do today. I hate being manipulated or having the feeling that I might be the victim of either outright or subtle manipulations. Because I hate manipulating, I try never to manipulate others. I think it’s in bad taste to do otherwise. Still, I value a good argument and the more persuasive a person can be, the more I respect them for possessing that quality. I lack diplomacy on many occasions, so when I see a persuasive diplomat in action, I’m mesmerized.
I’ve got to say that I write better than I speak. I also enjoy writing much more than communicating with others in person. Part of the reason for that is that in writing, I can hit the backspace as many times as I want, correcting and editing at will, making sure every word is exactly what I intend it to be before it leaves my desktop. Some people might call that controlling. I prefer to see it as diligent and professional.
Another reason why I enjoy writing more than communicating with others in person is that in writing, I have the time I need to create an affective argument without interruption. I hate being interrupted while trying to make a point, but the world is full of interrupters who sometimes double as gesticulators. Do you know one? These are those who flail their hands left and right, up and down, side to side as they talk and talk and talk, and talk. I write. Controlling? Some might say so. Again, I see it as discipline on my part, and perhaps the indulgence of a gift I rarely get to enjoy face-to-face with another gesticulating, hand-flailing person.
Finally, I enjoy writing more than communicating with others in person because writing is an art I get to practice alone. Call me a hermit if you want, but I like my alone time. Working full-time and being a mom and wife full-time, I rarely get alone time. You women out there know what I mean. And since I suspect the vast majority of those I communicate with are spending more time crafting their reply to me, than actively listening to what I’m saying in the first place, writing seems the way to go.
The only complication I can see with the reasoning I’ve given for enjoying writing over communicating with others in person is that when I am writing, no one can stop me. I’m alone, after all, so if I prefer, i can go on and on and on, and on. Not good! My younger son tells me briefer-is-better, and my pastor says I’m verbose. They’re probably both right, but I write. It’s what I do. Whether I do it well or not is irrelevant–to me, anyway. I write because it makes me feel good. When I’m writing, I feel useful, directed, comforted, smart, informed and purposeful. When you read this, you might feel differently. If so, maybe you should explore getting your own website and trying out this writing thing. You’ll see, it’s fun!
if you have something you do that you love, write me about it. Oh, did i forget to mention it? I also read.