I think for me, little and as poorly as I do it, the appeal of writing is that you’re creating something. No matter how awful or boring or drivelly that it is, you’ve created it all on your own and it’s yours. It’s yours to publish, to praise, to be proud of or to squirrel away and only find, years later, and cringe at. It’s yours to plaster all over the internet or keep it to yourself and quietly improve it as you go along. It’s something you can share or keep secret, do alone or collaborate and talk about.
Most of all, for me at least, it’s about writing something down, putting a voice to a thought, that someone, somewhere might share. Many have encountered that breath-stealing, fingertip-tingling, face-breaking-with-bitten-back-grin feeling when you read your own thoughts that someone, soomeone you have never met and never known, perhaps thousands of miles or centuries away from you, has laid down. It’s a magical feeling. And thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’re creating that connection with someone else, forming a bond, building a bridge of shared sentiment over the oceans and mountains and under the boundaries of time…
That’s what’s so great about writing.
Anyway… that’s just what… um… I think about my, um,
limited experience of writing. So… um… yeah.