Writing for me

The rains pour down all evening. They are not comforting drops that fall from the sky to cool down a feverishly heated earth. Instead, they chill an already cool day so that I shiver when I sit close to the open window. I hunt about for my rarely used sweater and pull it over my head as I curl up on the sofa to write. It has been a long while since I wrote. It is not because I have forgotten how to put words down one after the other. It is also not because I have nothing to write. It is merely because I lose the will to make an effort some times. And then I remind myself that here in my blog, I write only for me. To those I know and love, they are aware it is my expression of life. And that for me, is all that has ever mattered.

I sometimes ask myself why I wish to write at all. As my mother unfailingly reminds me, I do not make money out of it. I tell her I never tried to sell my words. I write simply because I cannot not write. It is a very real part of me. There is an indescribable joy in letting words pour forth that paint the images I save in my mind - images both happy and sad. It is my stress-buster. It is also my gift. And it comes with no price tag.

The other day I read about Harper Lee who has only ever written and published one book. I have read ‘To kill a Mockingbird’ at least half a dozen times and I have loved it to bits each and every time. I love each character and the story itself is so engaging that one is instantly transported to hot, laidback Alabama running around with Scout as she learns vital life lessons. It is a story of growing up, of facing prejudice, of standing up to what is important. Such a wonderful book. And yet Harper Lee never wrote another.

I imagine what it would have been like for Harper Lee when bombarded with questions as to why she stopped after one book. Perhaps she had only one story in her to tell. Perhaps she never cared about fame or money but penned down the only story she absolutely had to write. Perhaps for her, joy lay in other things. I admire her for her resolution as much as for her ability to tell a story. 

Every time my mother asks me why being an engineer, I do not work for money but instead work for a cause and why I write only for myself, I tell her its my life. I choose to be a crusader because I do not like being passive when one must fight. I choose to write whenever and wherever I feel like because they are my words – no one has a right over them and no one can tell me whether I should or should not write for a price. I believe that right now, I am living my passion. And when I do that, I live a better life – one that I am proud of, one in which I am assured of leaving a legacy that is more lasting than money.