We all want to feel like we’re part of … something. We all want to spend our lives doing exactly what we feel we were born to do.
Purpose. It’s what motivates us to do what we do. It’s the driving force behind every project we start, every new thing we commit to creating.
Every time you think, “I want to write a story about this,” it always connects back to your purpose, your personal mission for spending your time on Earth Making Words Happen.
Or … it SHOULD connect back to your purpose, anyway.
True creatives engage in their projects not because they feel they have to, but because they know, deep down, it’s what they’re meant to do. Ironically, it’s hard to explain this in words. Sometimes I feel drawn to writing in a way that’s almost mystical. I experience moments where I can’t pull myself away from something I’m writing — as if it’s God or the universe or The Force reminding me, “This is who you are. This is why you’re here.”
I’m willing to bet I’m not the only writer here who has ever felt that — almost a spiritual connection to creating something out of nothing. If I didn’t know it was possible to feel that sensation, I’m not sure I’d keep writing. But every once in awhile I have those moments, and it’s how I know it’s always worth pushing through the “I don’t want to write” moments. On the other side, there’s good.
Writing is what gives a writer their sense of purpose. You’re a writer when you know that no matter what you think about them, your words must exist in the world. You refuse to live in a world where you cannot transfer your thoughts onto paper.
Even when you don’t feel like writing — we all have those days, no matter how “good” we are at pushing through those dreary states of mind — it’s still your reason for pushing yourself as far as you can go. Many writers who face tragedies in their lives cope with them by documenting their experiences, thoughts and feelings in words.
Sometimes this transfer — experience to documentation — doesn’t happen right away. But when it does, it’s its own form of enlightenment. “I went through this thing, and it was awful, but maybe now my words can help someone else survive something similar.”
For many, writing is like breathing. If they can’t write — even a few sentences scratched onto a throwaway piece of paper — they can’t function. Or, at least, they’re not themselves without that release.
I don’t know you. I don’t know if you have a personal mission or if you know what your purpose is — and how your writing ties into all that. But I’m almost certain if you’re on this blog, reading this post, it’s because writing has had a significant impact on your life. I hope that your words can also impact others’ lives as well, someday. That’s why I want to encourage you to KEEP WRITING, even when it’s not fun, easy, or relaxing. I sat down about an hour ago (at the time of writing), and I did not want to write this blog post. But I did. And aren’t you glad I knew it was important enough to get down and out into the world, even though I just wanted to go to bed? :)
Writing is part of you. If it matters to you, it’s important enough — and so are you. Remember that. No matter what.
Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a staff writer with The Cheat Sheet, a freelance editor and writer, and a nine-time NaNoWriMo winner. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.