Why I write

Sometimes, when I just want to check my e-mails before I go to bed at night, an idea appears in my mind. Not really an idea, more the glimpse of one. A direction in which a story could go, the name of a person, an item of clothing, a scent, a feeling, a place. And then I start to write. For a couple of minutes, an hour, a couple of hours. The important thing is not to stop. I have to make myself stay in this mood, the mood for exactly the story I am working on. Sometimes I lose it. Therefore I have hundreds of unfinished short stories, poems and lyrics on my computer and in my notebooks. Writing makes me visit places and people I would never have the chance to see in reality. Searching for just the right words to say in a certain moment, thinking about what these words will do to the person who is going to hear them and then, zooming out of this part of the story and watching the whole thing, the entire creation, from above. What will these words change? I am leaning back on my chair, turning around to watch the dark sky outside for a moment instead of the blinking cursor on my computer. I am thinking about how the characters may deal with the words, how these words will affect the story as a whole and how I would deal with it if I was one of the characters. The good thing is, I can write whatever I want, whatever makes sense to me. For the reader, it does not have to make sense AT ALL at this moment. Sometimes the truth is discovered later on in the story – and sometimes there simply is no truth. I make my decision and turn back to the cursor which seems to be blinking faster now, as if it was curious about how the story is about to go on. I can make the characters feel happiness, feel sorrow or regret - different emotions by giving the story different directions. But I found out one thing about me: in real life, I don’t like it when people suffer. Neither do I in my stories – I like the characters too much. To hurt them would mean to hurt somebody I just started to get to know. I can’t do that. In contrast to the short stories I have been writing, where I just let the words flow however they appear in my mind, I have been writing on a longer story, too. It has 124 pages by now and in this case I only write words that are EXACTLY made for the situation I am writing about. I like to explain my thoughts as exact as possible and when I feel that the fire has gone out I stop writing for that day. This does not bother me – I know that another day will come and with it other words that fit the consensus. I like writing because it makes me fly high. It makes me smile when the characters have just become almost real to me, when I know what a certain character would do in a certain situation. I like writing because it calms me down when I am feeling uneasy. I am forced to focus on a world that is not my world then. It makes me forget about what a bad day I’ve had or the problems I have to deal with. It makes me think more organized and focused. Writing is pure bliss. When I write lyrics and turn them into a song by adding a melody and then, have people to listen to it, my happiness is perfected. In writing I can tell things about myself, about my feelings and opinions, and I can still decide to answer the question ‘did all that really happen?’, with a yes... Or a no. It’s up to me. Writing is freedom.