Why I Write 📖🖊
I've been asked more than once:
"What makes you write?"
You're a busy guy. Got a kid and a wife.
A career and a life. So why write?"
Well I write for four reasons.
First: it gives me something to believe in.
See, I'm somewhat unassuming.
A simple soul consuming
The time that's given to me,
but you see...
Sometimes I find I'm kinda finite.
Just tryna find five minutes in the limelight.
So I rhyme tight.
See, books are timeless.
If I refuse to rhyme less
Something I confess might make my time less mindless.
I can string together words
in ways you've never heard
and if they don't sound absurd
I'll have those thoughts preserved
So that long after i'm gone, I've given something worth keeping.
Something you can turn to when you're having trouble sleeping.
Sometimes it's not enough to be driven or smart.
In life, you need a head start to set you apart.
I love creating: apps, ideas, businesses...
But maybe that's something I have no business in.
I had great ideas. I put in time and passion,
But after a few months they'd all come down crashing.
Because building an idea or business is tough.
And sure enough, by time I set myself to that stuff
It's not enough.
10 guys with connections in Silicon Valley
Already built prototypes and moved on without me.
I can't compete with millions in funding.
Capitalism can be a bit stunting.
But words aren't competitive. There's enough. We can share.
They don't care if I put them down, come back a little later.
You could say I'm not committed, and I'd have to agree.
See, I prioritize the husband and dad I want to be.
That doesn't mean I can't create. On the contrary,
I'll build worlds with the words that never outran me.
I heard a word.
And that word heard me.
Instead of passing through,
as words often do,
It nested in my mind.
And looked around to find
Other words, other letters,
And then they got together
And without my permission, they formed an idea.
Words are poetry. Writing is a song.
And it feels so wrong if I don't sing along.
When I was young, in school, I used to hate the undefined.
Math and science had correct answers to find.
But in English... "There's no right answers" the teachers would say.
But if that's the case, you should've given me an A
Instead of a C....
Because you see, with words, I'm set free.
I can become anyone, anything I want to be.
I can sail the seven seas,
soar upon a breeze,
Scale a trapeze,
Dream things you can't believe.
Scream things you can't conceive.
My mind's a sieve
Just waiting for my dreams to be received.
The feelings had nowhere else to go.
Nowhere they could latch and take hold.
So they flowed
Straight from my head
to my hand,
to the pen,
Formed phrases and sequences that you could comprehend.
Quick, Give me that pen, man
Don't rend it from my hand, man.
You don't understand man.
That is not a pen.
It's a sword.
Sworn to pour every word.
No... It's a shield.
You don't see it, but behind it I'm healed.
Behind it I'm concealed.
Behind it I reveal how I feel.
Lin wrote his way out.
But I wrote my way through.
I wrote it all -
I write it all! -