writing for writing’s sake 

Is that even possible? Yes. A good use of time? Debatable… 

In the past weeks I’ve received several assignments that require me to write about another writing assignment—reflections. These are incredibly easy to crank out since I can simply write down what I’m already thinking.  

I suppose since I’ve been writing (in different forms) for most of my life, I’m super used to documenting my feelings, especially in the form of inner dialogues. Reflection assignments require me to simply paste these self-discussions onto paper. It’s even easier because I have strong feelings about writing assignments, specifically when it comes to schoolwork. (All of this reminds me of journaling, and the many benefits lots of people tout about it. In elementary school, I hated journaling assignments. Abhorred it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, for a multitude of reasons.) 

In another class of mine, we’ve been discussing novels where the narrators, dubious as they are, directly address the audience in depth and at length, breaking the fourth wall’ in literature. My professor used the word meta, in this sense, apparently originally it’s sense. I find this word funny, because it will always sound to me like it’s trying to be something it will never quite be, only in part due to that company.

Also, in case you were wondering—these ‘meta’ narrators are quite annoying. They ramble on and on with little preface or regard for the reader’s interest. Times were different I suppose. I don’t go to a novel hoping to understand the narrator in depth. (Yes, go to, as if I am traveling to the setting). 

On the other hand, when it comes to writing for writing’s sake, there is a satisfaction when I scratch a word into paper, or complete a phrase that rhymes, or a pattern of words that click. 

This feeling is one of my greatest daily pleasures, and it’s made possible only with the possession of a pencil and paper. 

No, digital tools don’t evoke the same feeling. It’s because of my midnight escapades into stories and novels. I’ve learned what the weight of a good novel is, the thickness of the paper and the light ingrain each pencil stroke makes. 

The euphoria each little scratch gives me is probably addictive on some level. The excitement of creation fuels me to make the next stroke, finish the letter, and complete a word, then stack a phrase and mark a sentence, square a paragraph. It’s like building Legos, but pulling a block from thin air which each addition. 

It’s not at all sustainable, each feather light page, heavy with messages, the thin sticks of grey lead and shiny mechanical pencil cylinders. I want to keep each great thing I write forever, create my own library of words I’ve manually written out. 

To answer my own discussion question, which I’ve included below, I think God has given me this love of handwriting words to fuel a passion for sharing His Word. Whether through stories or this blog, or even verbally, writing eagerly has helped me improve in communication of all forms.

This post has dissolved into a statement of some kind, on my love of writing by hand.  

Thank you for reading. 

What’s a daily pleasure for you? Why do you think God has given it you? 

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