Why do I write? It's an activity that's as essential to who I am as breathing, eating and sleeping. It seems as If I've been plastering words on paper since I grasped my first chunky pre-school pencil. Admittedly, my handwriting skills did not win high marks on grade school report cards, and I've never considered myself a grammar expert because I break many of the rigid rules. I was a journalism major in college and that format offers more freedom in prose than formal literary pieces. I learned how to pay attention to the minute details of how people express themselves verbally, and we do not talk the way we write.
Incomplete sentences. I thrive on them because they're real.
I've traded those stubby pencils for purple pens and markers. Just ask my husband how many I misplace every week and my obsession with purchasing more. I think it's because I had a nightmare once that the world ran out of purple ink. I've been hoarding as many as possible ever since.
Today, I often rely on my Apple Macintosh computers because I can pound out prose faster there than my fingers can paint pages purple. Yet, nothing can replace the sensation of purple pen in hand. It's intimate and interactive. It's like talking with an individual because handwriting is more the speed of a real conversation.
Why do I love to piece together random words on paper and in presentations? To me, there's no greater tool in connecting us all through the human experience. Words inspire us, incite us, calm us, define us. Writing and speaking about life and observing the wonder of it all … those are my passions.
What's yours?
