A busy day and the loss of an important document meant that National Writing Day was unintentionally ignored by me yesterday. As a self-confessed passionate writer I was overly irritated this morning when I noted that my calendar read October 21st; how could I possibly have missed it?! Residing myself to the fact that a temper tantrum would get me no where unless my fit of frustration resulted in me defying the laws of time and space, I took a deep breath and kindly reminded myself that the world was not over. My self-inflicted tirade of anger did however get me to thinking; as a ‘self confessed passionate writer’ why do I need a pre-assigned date to shout from the rooftops my love of pen and paper (or in this case Word and keyboard)? So here I am, breaking the rules, writing about why I love to write on a day that I have not been given permission to do so. Yesterday I would have been a sheep; today I am a rebel!
I remember clearly my first piece of praised writing. I was in primary 2, 5 or 6 years of age, and I wrote about having a rag nail on my toe; I know, riveting stuff. But for some reason this mundane tale of my discomfort was noticed, and it was shared. I was taken to the Headteacher’s office to show her my work; the story was pinned to the school notice board! I think only my graduation tops that day. I was incredibly proud of myself. As hazy as childhood memories might become that one could have been yesterday. Why do I remember it so clearly? Because it was probably one of the only occasions in my entire school career that I was praised in that way… but the importance of positive feedback and encouragement of talent is an entirely different post.
As far as I remember I continued to write from that day onwards. I have notepad after notepad of adolescent stories and pictures, developing into the daily journals of a hormone tortured teen, which then became the wonderments of a university student finding her way in the world, and then one day, there it was; me, published (OK so the first time that happened is also pretty high on my list of proud days).
I write because I love it. I love putting my thoughts into concrete words that I can revisit someday. I will always write regardless of whether or not I have an audience. I write for me and a lot of the time what I do put to pen and paper goes no further than me (those tortured teen years for instance will never leave the well worn diary pages). Writing an incredibly powerful outlet and at times my pen really is mightier than the sword; on those days no one sees the ink stained pages but me.
I am yet to find anything that can compare to the harmony of a pen pouring my heart onto a blank page. Writing soothes the soul when your mind buzzes with a thousand thoughts, worries, hopes, fears and dreams… place them all on paper tonight and sleep soundly.