I love writing. That’s not the only thing I love in life. I also love my wife, our cats, or pizza. Writing is not the only activity. I love playing video games, I write about that quite a lot. I love having interesting conversation with nice people. I love complaining too, which brings me back to writing. I wanted to be an author when I was a child, amongst other dreams, some realized, some in progress, and others lost.
I don’t write as much as I’d like. One part of this is inspiration. I write not out of constraint but on matters that passionate me. As silly as and indulgent as it might seem, those things bring me happiness. For every person that tells me they enjoyed their time reading my articles, I smile for I made the world a little better, even for a fleeting moment.
On top of that, I also don’t necessarily have the time or energy to write. It’s after all an all-consuming activity. I pour big brain time, feelings, passion, and many more parts of me when I write. I’m not saying that like it’s something special. Anyone can feel passionate about anything and want to share it with the world. Each and every one of those people can write, draw, sing, anything they’d like and bring a tear to the eye of someone else. It’s what the naïve child inside me wants to hope for.
You might have noticed I complain a lot. Well, of course, I would usually respond, I’m French. However, there’s more than that. Frustration, anger, pain, are only starting points, from which to build something more personal, constructive, and useful. Because, I’m a person, and so are you, and I’m writing for me, definitely, but also for you. And how beautiful are you, my reader. You are a wonderful breathing, thinking, feeling person. You can love my article, hate them, laugh at them, and many more other emotions.
All those possibilities exist only because I write. I don’t even know how many people read those articles besides the few that I send them to and in turn talk to them about me.
I could.
I could siphon that look you gave at my creations into the black holes that are analytics software. Such a thing is trivial. But I didn’t, and I won’t.
But it’s not only about being read for writing itself brings so much. By materializing my words on my text editor, I am forced to think about them: to refine them and somewhat structure them. All those ideas macerate in my brain into the delightfully indulgent articles that now exist. I can experiment with structures, ideas, sounds, and so much more. Creativity is at the core of what make people beautiful and who wouldn’t like finding some beauty in themselves?
So now, exploring those infinite possibilities that creativity brings us, I will do something that I’ve never done before.
Brace yourselves, a sequel is coming.