By: Shannon Hogan Cohen<\/p>\n
I was sharing casual conversation over a cup of rosehip tea with tupelo honey,<\/p>\n
when a new acquaintance asked me, \u201cWhy do you write?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Suddenly, I felt something I thought was a little odd \u2013 an inability to respond<\/p>\n
quickly or articulate an answer. Cutting the silence, my rushed reply was, \u201cIt<\/p>\n
brings me joy.\u201d I noticed the interest in her eyes fade and her focus wane, as she<\/p>\n
continued sipping her steamy tea. My response must have seemed blas\u00e9. I tried<\/p>\n
again. \u201cI like to create a world with my words.\u201d This answer seemed to grab her<\/p>\n
attention; a bit of sparkle returned.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you write fiction?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cNot exactly. I dabble in poetry but typically write narrative nonfiction. I enjoy<\/p>\n
fact-based storytelling, similar to personal essays,\u201d I explained.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, like memoirs,\u201d she quickly stated.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cMore like diary entries with elements of dysfunction and discovery,\u201d I added,<\/p>\n
attempting to evoke another emotional response and engage her enthusiasm.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We parted ways after an unfinished chat over our love of books, types of fictional<\/p>\n
characters she connects with, and her new love interest – a poodle puppy she<\/p>\n
named Fifi. With the talk of her poodle puppy, she reminded herself it was time to<\/p>\n
pick Fifi up from her grooming appointment which left me drinking cold tea while<\/p>\n
pondering the reasons why I write.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This afternoon chat was illuminating. Her question forced me to consciously<\/p>\n
contemplate what motivates me to unveil my innermost thoughts and feelings. No<\/p>\n
one had ever asked me why I write – only what I write.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I like details and, when speaking with others, I often feel rushed to find the right<\/p>\n
words and explanations. This has always been a problem for me. Ever since I can<\/p>\n
remember, I have had to hide my emotions and internal dialogue in order to<\/p>\n
formulate an answer. Naturally this takes time, and I end up being pressured into<\/p>\n
rushing my response. I determined this was the challenge I had describing my<\/p>\n
affection for writing to my new friend.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My mental makeup prefers carefully selected words which, I believe, are the secret<\/p>\n
to having profound, powerful dialogue and expressing great stories. This opposed<\/p>\n
to rapid retorts that are often nerve-racking for me. Given the choice, I want to<\/p>\n
write what I have to say – not speak it. That\u2019s what makes me a writer.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Writing is an opportunity to have conversations with myself, at my pace. I<\/p>\n
experience contentment when I am given the time to find the accurate words that<\/p>\n
describe how I feel versus an immediate response just to fill space in a<\/p>\n
conversation.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Writing truly brings me joy. I feel fully alive when I write. My senses are ignited<\/p>\n
and intensified. I discover creative courageousness inside. It is fun finding the<\/p>\n
serenity within as I give meaning to jumbled thoughts, and I admire myself for<\/p>\n
being brave.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Writing is a platform for me to be me, without disguise. I am powerless when my<\/p>\n
words are not expressed. The fear of people failing to understand the concealed me<\/p>\n
can be damaging. I do not want to spend my life feeling rushed into reactive<\/p>\n
replies. Writing allows me to edit my existence. In constructing a story, I seek to<\/p>\n
reveal myself, I seek to be understood, and I seek to share.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Next time, I will tell my new friend that this is why I write.<\/p>\n
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Also\u00a0Published at Two Drops of Ink: A Literary Blog on January 11, 2016:<\/p>\n