I Hate Writing

I hate writing. Truly, I mean I hate it. Not just saying it casually. I detest it. 

Growing up as a child, I hated writing for homework and school. My mom used to force me to sit down and do my homework and I still remember the worst, most distasteful part for me was writing for English class. 

Yet, somehow, my life so far has been shaped so much by writing. I literally make a living from writing today.

How the hell does this end up happening, is the question that is begged, considering the hate I described for writing above. 

Maybe it’s one of those cliché sayings that goes: what you run away from is what will end up chasing you. 

In a long-winded way, that is how I feel right now. I hate writing yet I seem to continually find myself going back to it at every step and in every aspect of life. 

Now that I think about it, it’s been an important part of my life at every major turn. It has been the catalyst to much change. It has been a portal to my most inner self. And it has been my weapon of choice; my modus operandi; my sword to slay my dragons with.

This is why, perhaps, I have come to believe in the saying that the pen is mightier than the sword - because it has done wonders for me.

I still like to write with pen and paper. It is the most primitive form of writing, flowing straight from the neurons firing in my brain through the fine motor movements of my right hand and on to the crisp ivory paper in black ink. Eventually, this route is reversely followed in almost the same way when your eyes see this black ink and the idea that the ink conveys is interpreted by the neurons firing in your brain.

Right there, I suppose, I‘ve stumbled upon the power of writing. It is a medium that allows my neurons to intimately interact with yours without ever having touched physically, visually, or environmentally. In a way, this interaction is beyond the material world, outside the limits of matter, time, and space. And, perhaps, this transcendence is what makes writing so powerful and special. A sword can physically end and eliminate neurons, but a pen has the power to interact with them.

I must clarify first what I mean by power in this context. To me, the power of writing is the ability to access the inner clarity I have within myself and formulate it into words that are understood by others. I believe everyone has this clarity within them, but tragically, I think most people have allowed the everyday inertia of worldly life to relinquish their access to it - just as flowing water has the power to dull even the sharpest of rock underneath. Writing allows me to cut through that worldly force and still access the inner clarity. That is what makes writing so powerful. 

With great power comes great responsibility. What is the accompanying responsibility related to the power of writing? I don’t know yet to be honest. I have a vague feeling that the greater responsibility will only reveal itself if I continue writing. So, for now writing is the only responsibility. That is why I am writing. It’s a gut feeling. 

In the past, instead of accepting the responsibility part, I chose to run away from it and learned to hate the craft of writing itself. Over the years, I reflected on where that choice of running away from responsibilities took me. 

Take a look at my past: my highest grade in school was in history, where I wrote a lot; I ended up getting a degree in international relations, which was four years of constant hand-hurting- writing; and I have spent most of my “professional” life of about four years, writing for a living. 

Reflecting on the above, I learned that I cannot keep running away from writing, if only for the simple reason that it would keep chasing me as long as I kept running - the nature of life.

I kept running and it kept chasing.

Now, I’ve decided to stop running. 

Now, I realize that I am better off accepting my responsibilities proactively and wholeheartedly. One of these is writing. Why? How? Where? When? I don’t know.

But I am keen to find out.