Why I Write. Why I Read What You Write.

Lately, I have had some interesting experiences dealing with the world of bloggers and writers. Putting yourself out there to be read is a very scary thing. I have been overwhelmed by those who praise. I have been equally devastated by those who slam and criticize.

In my attempts to join the written world, I joined some sites that at the time I thought would be beneficial to my life and to my work. However, I had an emotional reaction to those that “comment”. I was shocked to find those that were ready to pounce on the things that they didn’t like. I remembered how powerful words can be when they are used to attack someone. I found myself bullied by complete strangers sitting on the other side of a computer screen blasting their opinions and firing off their disapproval of my stories.

It never dawned on me that simply telling a story could provoke reactions like that. I thought in telling my stories – someone else might see briefly through another’s eyes. Like I do when I read your stories. How could I possibly give counseling to a full time divorced working mother of 3 who has a disabled child? I wouldn’t even pretend to think that I would have something of substance to say to her. Certainly I have never walked a moment in her shoes. I would read her plight though. I would feel for her. I would see a bigger picture of the world…of her world. I would probably pray for her. But to shell out some two bit advice based on the hand that I have been dealt – I don’t think so.

This experience made me think carefully about what I am doing. Why I am writing. What am I hoping to accomplish. It’s not about publishing or getting my work out there. Though editors and publishers may want that. It could be easy to get lost in the art of marketing and forget why you had those words to begin with. To want everyone to read your stories. To watch your “hits” and “likes” and “comments”. But that is not what this is all about and never has been – not for me. Perhaps I need to introduce myself to you.

When I write, I am writing from my heart. I am simply telling you the truths of my life and my existence. Perhaps you misunderstood my purpose. It is not for you to tell me how I should have handled something. It is not for you to suggest that my parenting is not up to your expectation. It is not for you to spout off how you would have done this or that differently. I am not looking for your guidance. I do that privately with my God.

When I write I don’t recall that I asked you what you thought about me or my children. When I write it is not a debate. It is not me searching for your contribution or negativity. When I write – I simply tell my story. Period. I don’t dare presume to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. When I read your blogs I take them at face value and enjoy them for whatever they bring to my immediate life or whatever they may leave me contemplating for my distant future.

I read your work because what you say matters to me. I read your work not to suggest how I may do it differently or perhaps another approach you might consider. I read your story. I feel your pain. I hear your struggle. I read and celebrate your joys. I feel blessed that you let me in and shared something so personal with a stranger. I read your work because I feel the universal calling that we have to do our best with what we have. I read your work because we are all different and I appreciate and value your worth. Most importantly, I read your work because you spoke. You spoke wanting – needing – to be heard, and my heart understands that and feels just like yours. I read your work to give testament that you had something to say and to tell you that I listened. Because I know what it is like to have words abounding from your soul and wonder if anyone hears you.

I don’t write to force my opinion on you.
I don’t write to try to change your ways.
I don’t write with the intention of hurting you.
I don’t write because I think my way is superior.
I don’t write because I am looking for your affirmation.
I don’t write because I am looking for your approval.
I don’t write because I am looking for your opinion.
I don’t write because I am looking for your judgment.
I don’t write because I intend to judge you.
I don’t write because I am trying to tell you what to do.
I don’t write because I think you need to hear what I say.
I don’t write because I think I might make a difference.
I don’t write because I think I will change the world.
I don’t write because I think anyone will care.
I don’t write because I think that anyone is listening…

I write because I love it.
I write because it is cleansing.
I write because it is therapeutic.
I write because I am overflowing with words inside.
I write because my brain swirls with ideas.
I write because I have too much to say.
I write because it has always given me peace.
I write because I am working through something.
I write because I am hopeful.
I write because I need to express myself verbally.
I write because I can’t help myself.
I write because it is a compulsion.
I write because I have written my entire life.
I write because I don’t know how not to.
I write what I don’t understand.
I write what I understand perfectly.
I write what I feel.
I write what I wish I felt.
I write about what I am.
I write about what I wish I was.

The bottom line is –
I write because I can.
BUT - I never wrote and told you that you had to read what I write.

I’m curious. Why do you write?