Why write? For me, writing is an escape–a place where I can let my mind wander. A place where it doesn’t matter what I type, because I can always go back and edit it out later. It must work pretty well (the escaping part) considering the first time I received the final proofed pages of my Sweet Eats for All manuscript, I hardly recognized it. Who wrote all these words?!
I guess I did.
Writing for me is not only an escape–it’s really my preferred way of communicating with the outside world. I often prefer a text to phone call; an email negotiation to an in-person deal; writing books to teaching cooking classes; and “journaling” (both online and on paper) to actually talking with real live people about my thoughts, feelings, experiences. Extroverts think I’m insane. Friends think I’m flat out lying or being modest when I tell them that having my own restaurant or cooking show is quite possibly my worst nightmare. But, it’s who I am. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the company of people… I do. It’s simply that with writing, I have a bit more time to collect my thoughts, to edit so they convey just the right message I intend. It’s like a “brave” suit–when I’m all zipped up, I’m ready to face the world. With spoken words, well, I get a bit tongue tied.
I hope to have the privilege to write for many many years. The more I read, the more I learn about the written word, and the more I want to do it. Since I began reading blogs–way back in 2006–I have come across a variety of people with various reasons why they blog. Some want to help others. Some want to be famous. Some want a scrapbook of memories. Some are lonely. Each reason is just as valid as the other. The realization of why I write was the motive for me to start this blog. I write because it helps me get my thoughts straight. It’s the same reason I create art. If I have an idea, I generally rush to get it down before it fades away forever–whether it be a tweet or a painting. Lest I keep recounting fragments of that thought until it all but disappears, possibly for years, until I stumble upon it again.
I also like to connect to others who share similar thoughts I as do. I often find myself googling random problems I face–like “why does my cat play in the toilet?”–and finding solace and connections to those who faced similar issues and wrote about it. My writing may not be therapeutic for many, but it has helped at least a few people, and that makes it worth it for me. I got an email the other day from a woman who said I helped save her life. It was a bold statement–one that I wasn’t quite ready to take responsibility for. As I read her words, I teared up. The reason she was so grateful was the same reason I am grateful to find random internet answers when life gets rough. Sometimes it means the whole world just to know that someone else gets it–and if someone else gets it and has a solution, even better. I shared my experience in having celiac disease and my story helped another person realize that she was suffering from it, too. How about that? The power of words.