I Wrote 4,000 Words Today

If you write, you may know what I mean. There is a place you go when the story inside your head needs to get out. It’s the opposite of writer’s block. I’ve seen it called many things; writers diarrhea, graphorrhea, hypergraphia, writer’s barf. This state of being is also referred to as ‘The Flow’ which I find much more pleasant than the images provided by the previous descriptions.

While your literary work is being born, you almost can’t type fast enough, or you speak too quickly and your transcriber can’t keep up. It’s like a supernatural experience, as though Seshat, the goddess of writing, is channeling through you. You are merely her pen.

Writing feeds on itself. The more you write, the more you have to say. It’s a bit like exercise endorphins (exercise, not running, which is only used when one’s life is in danger). Once you’ve had the writers’ high, you want it again, and again. Even if you manage only fifteen minutes to jot down thoughts or ideas, it’s still writing.

Writing serves many purposes. It allows a creative outlet, enabling us to depressurize our imaginations. It can be therapeutic, giving us space to put our emotions, dreams, and troubles so they no longer clog our minds. It is a way for us to share who we are, and what we know or believe, with others.

Writing insinuates itself into your life, into part of who you are. It becomes that voice at the back of your head that speaks up when you are asked, “So, what do you do?” It says, “I am a writer” when we hesitate to respond. It becomes the reason we get out of bed in the morning, what drags us through tedious meetings and awkward small talk.

Each of us knows what motivates us to write. We understand the need, the drive, to get the words out and onto paper. Why we write is meaningful, but the writing itself is it, it’s real. Even knowing most of our work will go unread or unpublished, we persist. Maybe because at the end of the day we know it is imperative we be heard, even if only by ourselves.