WHY I WRITE

by Rebecca

8/4/13

Why do dancers dance?

Why do singers sing?

Why do artists create?

Because it delights others first before themselves?

I believe not.

They do it primarily because it brings pleasure to themselves. They do it because they HAVE to do it. When a dancer dances, she is no longer a separate entity from the dance, she has become.... the dance.

Similarly, I write because writing is delightful to me. It is gratifying to see the words from my mind come together then flow in perfect harmony like musical notes on a scale. It is even more pleasurable when my words produce not just a quartet but a symphony in the reader's mind. A symphony of colours, of shapes, characters and their emotions.

I write because there are things which the heart feels that cannot be simply uttered by the mouth, but they can be sculpted by the pen. And as they are chiseled to take form, a part of me lies in the words that I write. I am what I write.

I have been writing ever since I was a child, in my diary.. My first entry was like this: “Dear Diary, today my papa bought a Big Mac for me from KL. I eat until I cannot eat anymore. Aaah, thank goodness for Big Mac...”

In my primary school years, there were a few soggy pages in my diary when I wrote: “Dear Diary, my friend does not want to play with me and she got other girls not to play with me too. I hate all of them!”

During my courting years: “Dear Diary, I am so glad I have a nice boyfriend. He drove all the way from Penang to come and send me to the airport. He can be a little bit of a blockhead though.”

After I got married: “Dear Diary, WHY DID I GET MARRIED? MEN ARE STUPID!”

In many instances, I felt glad I wrote down the emotional words which reflected my state of mind at that time rather than speaking them. What is uttered cannot be retrieved. What is written can be kept as a lesson or discarded so it may not hurt another.

I write because there are stories in my mind that need to be told. Some of these stories may be incredible, some may be frivolous, some heartfelt.. whichever they are, they are tussling for an outlet, so that they may pour forth from my fingers and find their place in a paper, a notebook, newspaper, a book.. And these stories struggle to stay afloat among the other clutter in my brain for fear that they may drown and disappear. Some in the past have been shoved into black holes. They may be out of sight, but they are not gone. As long as they are not told, there is no restfulness. Therefore, I write so that they may be appeased, so that the characters are immortalized.... even if it is only for a little while, because there is always a story that needs to be told.

It is my hope that someday, my stories may be a source of reflection and pleasure to others just as they have been to me. That is why I keep writing.