Writing

I write because I have to.

I need to get the words in my head out and onto paper. My job is to write but it is more than that. I didn’t know that writing would be my work or my need. It has come to me as I write. I write so that others will listen. I write about inequity and marginalization so that it will stop. I suppose it’s naïve to think anyone will listen or that my writing will make anyone stop anything but I write nonetheless.

Writing in the writing project helps me to focus my thoughts and to remember that writerly part of myself that gets lost in the hubbub of everyday life and work. Even though I write for work, writing during the ISI is healing for me, even if it’s also for “work”. I know that probably doesn’t make sense but I know what I mean.

It amazes me that, even in a digital, multimodal world, the word has such import. I love reading the word (and the world) but, as vain as it is, I love reading the words as I write them. They appear on the screen at the tap of a finger and can vanish with just as much ease. Yet some words can be dangerous, even deadly. Amazed.