Why do I write?
The answer vary from time to time.
Let’s say during my Chinese studies years, my aim was to write a sentence that make heaven astonish and the earth move or in Chinese idiom, we call it: 惊天动地 (jing tian dong di). When I was doing my reading, I examined meticulously what I like or unlike about the text. I memorized those famous classic verse that written by great poet and author. I paid attention to the nuance between words, for example the specific noun for the green leaves, the dried leave but still hanging on the tree, and the falling leaves. I learned it from the famous academic writing: 林庚《说木叶》(Shuo Mu Ye by Geng Lin).
I remember vaguely that my lecturer in writing class was quite satisfied with me, anyway, I do not remember that I have written anything that shock heaven and earth. To write something like that is not my aim anymore. Still I am truly glad that, after all, I am still writing.
Over the years, writing have saved me from many negative spirals. When life was not very friendly to me, when the surrounding turned ugly and threatening, I take refuge in writing. Despites of all the negative experiences that I walk through, I will write about the beautiful world that full of love. May be it would not be very interesting to read, lack of dramatic and tension element, but it comforted me. I write to save me from myself, moreover, me and my favourite author think alike:
“When I wrote,” Astrid recounts, “I was unreachable for all worries.”
“Wenn ich schrieb”, erzählt Astrid, “war ich für alle Sorgen unerreichbar.”
Source: Astrid Lindgren
Note: Last post I said please do not worry about me, because when I’m still writing I’m fine. This post explained why 😉