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Proof

Seeing things on paper can change your perspective. Sure it’s one thing mentally, but things can change in the transcription. Whatever the result, writing finalizes things.

A complicated relationship that ends, a basketball game, a story in your head- once they’re written down, they happened. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, it happened. It’s like Tim O’ Brien’s story truth in The Things They Carried. It’s the feeling you’re going for. You could tell somebody a story, and they might not believe it. But if you say, “It’s in writing.” They’ll hesitate and ask, “Really?” Then when you say “Yup.” and show them the story, there’ll be no more doubt.

Writing when told to is practice. You’re forced to do something and be creative. You feel like you’ve cheated if the writing is poor. But it’s good for you. It forces you to make things happen, and connect things you wouldn’t normally, and make something from the jumbled ideas floating around in your head.

The practice may be rough when you’re doing it, and it may also be enjoyable. But the truest, and best writing comes spontaneously. When you’re on the train and begin making up back stories for the people sitting directly in front of you, when you’re up late on a Saturday night and suddenly realize your relationships with girls manage to follow the directions on a shampoo bottle, when you’re strolling down the block and you decide an exposé on the life of the 1957 quarter glued to the sidewalk would be interesting. These are the moments the practice pays off.

It is then that you don’t want to be caught off-guard, unable to express yourself the way you want to. You want to be prepared to write from any perspective on any given topic. You need to be able to choose the one that’s right, unconventional though it may be.

For if you’re not able to come up with a way to say what you want, the way you want, when you need it, it never happened. There’s no proof. This is my proof for why I write.