Why I Am a Writer

There is so much that can be said about being a writer. The beauty of it is immense, and yet the pain of it, the pain of translating what is thought in one’s mind onto paper is also immense. But the best feeling of it all is finally looking at that paper, full of words, knowing you created a whole new world. As George Orwell stated: “When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.” That is the reason many of us write, and, specifically, the reason I write.

Sometimes, I see an injustice occurring, and I can’t help but be angered. Why? There are so many things happening in the world around me that I do not understand. Why must we trample over others to get to our own success? Why must we have the feelings of jealousy towards others? It is these “whys,” and my curiosity towards the world around me in general, that propel me to write. I write to express my thoughts and opinions on a subject. I write to create new worlds, new characters, people I’d love to meet in real life. I write to entertain myself, to create a utopia I wish was real.

I wish to be able to write the words that make someone’s day, the words that someone will say, “because of her, I didn’t give up.” I wish to educate the world about how everyone is different, yet we’re all still the same. I wish I could shout, throw out my words to all the oppressors to hear my voice, to hear my cry of “this is unfair.” I wish I could comfort all the oppressed with “everything will be okay.” I wish I could end all the world’s inequalities, because everyone who has written knows this to be true: “words are more powerful than bullets will ever be.”

If this inspired you or something stood out, feel free to contact me in the comments.