A Writer's World

 

There’s always this voice in my head that fills up my thoughts whenever I try to write. In fact, when I first started this paper, I found myself imagining a conversation between myself and I. This voice in my head manifests as another me and sits across a blue table with crossed arms and an intimidating glare. We’re always in this blue vintage room, much like those old psychiatrist rooms where the patient lies on the couch. Except I never lie down. Every time we have a conversation about writing, there’s this tension in her voice that increases with every word. She keeps jabbing me with a question that always fills me with dread.

 

 

 

Why do you write?

 

 

I wish I knew that answer in its entirety. After all, I’m writing this essay (and talking to myself) in order to figure it out and convince myself that writing is worth it. But why do I even need to convince myself? What’s stopping me? Whenever I think about writing, I imagine the stakes as giant, impenetrable cement walls, rising high above me. So I’m trying to think about this in a more relaxed manner because it helps me to look into myself more clearly without freaking out over the possibility of having no reason.

 

It’s always been a struggle in convincing myself to continue writing. Now for some people, writing will always be seen as just a tool for communicating. It’s no big deal for them whether they do it or not. But for me, writing is the last creative skill I have desperately put out on the line as a possible career path. For me, it’s not just a tool; it’s an art form. But the problem is that my conscience thinks being creative is not my forte. This voice keeps telling me that I’ll give up after a couple years of trying to be an author. It convinces me that this dream is utterly impossible and foolish. After all, I already gave up on music composition, so who was I to say that I wouldn’t give up on writing? But a part of me fights back and says that I was misinterpreting my writing struggles as an indication that writing was not for me. I kept coming back, because that little voice told me that I would actually enjoy it if I saw the struggle as part of the process.

 

But something tells me that it isn’t the only reason.

 

As I kept searching into my psyche, I found certain motivations standing out among the others. My desire to know my motivations stemmed from Orwell’s Why I Write essay. Orwell claims that his four motivators for writing are “Sheer Egoism, Aesthetic Enthusiasm, Historical Impulse, and Political Impulse.” His first motivator really struck me as honest but also unnerving. When I imagined the ego as a main reason for writing, it seemed to take away the sincerity of the craft. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t the only reason. To be honest, I gave up music composition when I realized that behind my love for music was my selfish desire for recognition. Of course, I also gave up because I was a composition noob. My lack of confidence was my downfall. To this day, part of me still feels bitter when I think about it. Which is okay, because wounds need time to heal. But this is why figuring out “why I write” is so crucial. I want to convince myself that writing is worth the struggle. So I sat down and really thought about the motivations for why I write. Here’s what I got. I like to call them the 5 E’s.

 

1. Ego: I agree with George Orwell. Writing makes me feel valued and important. When I write something, there’s this deep anticipation of sharing it in my heart. Secretly, I hope what I write is important enough that someone is interested to read my thoughts, opinions, and ideas. It makes me feel valuable and prestigious. I guess prestige appeals to me because of the pride that comes with others complimenting and encouraging my work.I think that in every person’s core, there is a desire to be appreciated. In Dale Carnegie’s he describes it as “If some people are so hungry for a feeling of importance that they actually go insane to get it, imagine what miracle you and I can achieve by giving people honest appreciation.” When I first read this statement, a wave of relief washed over me. Although this quote was talking about appreciating others, it resonated with me because it was like Carnegie understood my greatest desire. I used to chastise myself for being so selfish in always wanting to be recognized by others. But after reading it, I realized that all of us had this desire to be known. It helped me to accept that this was a normal, and that it was natural for me to strive for it. Hypothetically if my writing became popular and successful, it would no doubt give me the recognition and acknowledgement that I desire. It’s all about that innate human tendency to find your identity and worth in people’s opinions. Sure, it sounds pretty selfish and superficial, but that is what the ego is. The important thing is that it’s just one factor. A part doesn’t speak for its whole.                                                     

2. Escapism: I love stories because they take me away from the reality of everyday life. Growing up, I mostly read fantasy or adventure books. They seemed way more interesting than the events that were happening in my life. There was always this desire to experience crazy situations and dramatic plot lines just like the characters in the books. I thought it would make my life seem more exciting. When I discovered that I could escape even deeper into my imagination through writing, I became interested about making my own stories. This ability to escape into stories gave my life excitement and adventure that I didn’t get in my normal life. And so my interest in writing grew. In most situations, fantasizing about adventures was a lot more fun than doing homework. The chance to explore my imagination in greater detail gives me the motivation to write my stories down. When life gets boring, I like to escape into the infinitely more interesting reality of my mind.                                                                                            

3. Exploration: In the movie RiP: a Remix Manifesto, the first point of the manifesto is “Culture always builds on the past.” We like to think that our ideas are so unique and special that they’re set apart from all the others. But the fact is that the human experience is similar in many ways. This common experience might be the explanation for why there are so many Cinderella stories that are identical in plot, yet originate from opposite ends of the world. And since our world is now connected through the Internet, there are more opportunities for ideas to clash or mingle. Sometimes my ideas stem from events, historical facts, or even dreams (which are technically outcomes of your brain processing everyday information). I like to take these different inspirations and mash them up into what we Koreans call “Bibimbab” or stirred rice with a variety of veggies. Each part of dish: the meat, the veggies, and the egg are all different types of foods. But when they are combined, they create a novel taste while still maintaining their distinct flavors. The possibility of a new story motivates me to combine aspects of different stories. The result of these combinations is so unique and unexplored that it gives me the motivation to document them in writing.                                                                                                                                                 

4. Effect: Honestly, this could tie into the Ego. After all, wanting to have an effect on a person or society ties into the desire of feeling important and powerful. But I categorize this separately because the desire to have influence over people isn’t only related to the desire of feeling important. It’s also about morals, values, and beliefs. As I’ve been studying Communications in college, I’ve noticed that a lot of media texts (like films, TV shows) are kind of depressing. It’s not that they aren’t good; they just tend to leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. There seems to be no hope or optimism in these texts. Personally, I think it’s because our society is becoming more cynical. Cynicism can come when we detach ourselves to protect ourselves from feelings of disappointment. Removing oneself can take away the sincerity and desire for positive change, not to mention wonder and imagination that comes with hope. People stop believing in Santa or the Tooth Fairy because they think it’s childish and unrealistic. But it’s that childlike wonder that not only makes stories interesting but also positive. This need to instill hope motivates me to create books and movies that will encourage people to retain that wonder and motivation to give their best in life.                                                                                                                                                 

5. Expression: Finally, we’ve come to the stereotypical reason an artist must be an artist. The desire to express one’s true self without being held back by any constricting walls of society. This reason might explain why people drop careers that pay really well and go for lesser paying artist jobs. I agree that being a writer allows for true expression. But it’s not just about expressing my ideas or myself. While it is a part, it’s also about the ability for me to express my emotions. Being completely free in my emotions is a rare and difficult thing. Growing up, my family always valued logic, reasonable thinking, and calm, non-emotional approaches to solving problems. So despite being an emotionally expressive child, I grew up learning how to use my mind over my emotions, which lead to my emotions never taking the center stage. But with writing, it allows me to explore my emotions in a safe environment. I let my characters cry, scream, go crazy, and feel without having to embarrassingly show these emotions myself or deal with the consequences. Perhaps that is what expressing yourself is all about.

 

Looking back, I see that my desire to write isn’t motivated by a single factor. And it scares me to admit that these factors are very similar, if not identical, to my reasons for wanting to compose. But what made me choose writing over music was the very nature of writing. Writing reaches and affects more people; it’s more collaborative by nature. Classical composition makes me think of old, lonely men hiding in their rooms, writing complicated and strange music that ends up entertaining the snobby upperclass. And even though that’s not necessarily true, it’s not really the kind of image that I want to pursue. Sometimes I still envy students that are pursuing composition, but I think writing is more effective for fulfilling my motivations and dreams. I don’t want to be a rich person’s amusement for the night. I want to be a voice for the voiceless and a hope for the hopeless.

 

There’s nothing in my life that proves that I was meant to be a writer. In fact, I think knowing what’s holding me back from writing is just as important as why I write. My mind is still plagued with that voice telling me that writing isn’t for me. But I’m realizing through this essay that nothing in this life is given for free, and if I want to achieve something, I have to earn it. I have to name the stakes and climb over the cement walls that are keeping me from moving forward. Music composition is a sore reminder of how my fears and doubts overcame my passion for music. I don’t want writing to be another marker that shows my inability to overcome struggles. If I want to jump over the hurdle, I need the motivation to gain momentum, and I need to know what those hurdles are in their rightful context. I write to prove my existence, my talent, and the joys in life. I write to share my own version of reality. I may be a noob, but I’m still a writer.

 

And this time, I’m not giving up.