I Write, Therefore I Am

I’m a writer. I spent over fourteen years telling myself this. Reading at least a book a week since I was fourteen, spending hours daily punching those damn keys, hoping to be rewarded by the muse with something that someone else can call beautiful.

And, yes, from time to time I did doubt it. I still do.

We have wings glued to our backs, yet sometimes we forget that we can fly. We opt to crawl through life instead.

But the truth is that we’re all writers. In one way or another. We wouldn’t exist otherwise. You see, we have language, so we can speak. We can speak, so we can tell a story. We can tell a story, so we can write.

It’s really that simple.

People have wanted stories since they were painting them inside their caves. This desire is what’s kept The Illiad and The Odyssey alive for so long. And it isn’t just belief in God that keeps the Bible breathing.

It’s the stories.

If we didn’t need stories, the world would be perfect. Or empty.

Stories…

To paraphrase Balzac, solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine. Life is only as beautiful as the stories that define it.

You’re alive, you have a story to tell. A story to write.

So yeah… you’re alive, so you’re a writer.

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18 thoughts on “I Write, Therefore I Am

  1. Wish I had something beautiful, inspiring or even worth reading but for the most part I write – and enjoy writing – pure, unfiltered crap just to wind down and amuse myself.

    Professionally I have something to offer but keep that behind closed doors because personally, I really little just above gutter level childish toilet humour.

    Can’t please all the people all the time or spend your life being serious I guess which is why I love childishness (and drawing bums on drawings and designs my husband is going to produce during a bigwig engineer meeting) 😀

    Liked by 2 people

  2. bravo, Cristian.. Each of us have something we want to share with the world. Even Auntysocial’s response is still – needing to share what’s inside us. Cave paintings were never meant to enthrall an audience a hundred thousand years in the future. But they do. Maybe the @#$ I write will entertain someone a hundred days from now….

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  3. I always thought of myself a writer, whether published or not. I feel I have a gift to write, but have never been given an opportunity to do so. This is part of why I blog. I write to release the thoughts in my head, and I usually feel better afterwards. My words may not always be eloquent, but they are thoughtful, and written with care.

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  4. It took me a decade to admit myself to be an artist. I was always becoming – not being. Now, making a film debut, second book on the way and yet working as a language and culture tutor, I am brave enough to embrace and admit that indeed I am an artist.

    Yes, all we are writers, who can read and write. It is just a question of the level and quality then when it comes to being a writer in the end.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Wow…I feel this piece :* Thank you for pouring a wordsmith’s tablet of the heart…thoughts, experiences, insights end into words…painted without restriction. Revelational appeal to individuals according to their interpretations!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. What is the purpose of a story though? Is it to share an experience? To give insight about the world? There’s so many stories and blogs out there that don’t get the opportunity to be communicated with others; and so many stories that are lost. Even though stories are about connecting, are they also about reflecting? Maybe when we write about how we’re living, it’s helping us to consolidate what our lives mean and what we hope to see in the world.

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