Writing for me is a release. I often wonder how I ever got along in life without it, but then I realize it’s always been there in one form, or another. As a teen, I kept a journal and wrote poetry trying to express those overwhelming emotional upheavals that seemed to continually crash upon me like tidal waves over the sandy coast. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also kept a journal and written stories on and off.
I write to share my experiences and my perspective on the world and life. I don’t believe my perspective is better or worse than anyone else’s, but it is uniquely mine. I do believe that trying to understand other’s experience is one of the greatest gifts we can give to another human being.
Knowing that others out there who have dealt with the same thoughts and circumstances gives us a sense of not being alone in this unforgiving and harsh world. Knowing that someone is willing to take the time to at least try to understand lets us know that we have value and worth even if we don’t’ see it at the time.
Both fiction and non-fiction writing allows readers into the author’s world. Even in academic writing, the author cannot help infusing the writing with a piece of their soul through the words that they choose. They breathe life into the pages with the rhythm and cadence of the words.
I enjoy writing non-fiction, but for me there is a limit to what I can write about as a non-fiction writer. As a fiction writer, there are no limits. The world is mine for the making.
Non-fiction’s value and place in the world is clear and easy for anyone to see. Sharing knowledge and experience has immeasurable value to us all. Fiction’s value is equally precious, even if there are some who do not recognize or appreciate it.
Fiction allows the reader to pursue dreams and goals they never thought possible. It allows the reader to see through another set of eyes. It gives expression to the pieces of our souls we hide and protect from the rest of the world. Fiction allows readers to maintain a firm grip on wonder and hope within the real world.
When I get lost in the pages of a book, I’ve become a part of the story. I’ve identified completely with a character. We are one. Together we face challenges and fail. Together we face challenges and conquer. We never really part ways, even when I’ve set the book on my nightstand or slipped it into my bag. Sure, I know I’m not in never never land any longer, but I will always have a sense of strength, courage, and hope to draw upon in my own life.
What about dark stories that plunge the reader into the depths of hell and never fully brings them back? I love these stories most of all. How in the world does a reader draw a sense of wonder and hope from that, you ask.
It makes them feel less alone in the world. The darkness in the book resonates with an equally dark piece of their experience. It also makes the real world appear so much brighter and radiant once you’ve looked hell in the eyes.