It occurred to me while working on a previous speech for an event to question why I write. After all, I am not chronicling my adventures in order to sell them for a profit. I do write occasional pieces where I have a particular short-term objective to promote, but these are the exception rather than the rule.
What puzzles me further about my writing habits is that, in person, I am not terribly talkative. That is not to say that I am quiet- far from it. But I tend to keep myself fairly limited in conversation because I have noticed that in verbal form, people tend to tune out after the third paragraph or so, or else interrupt my train of thought and bring me off topic. So perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I have vastly more to express than I can reliably do so verbally.
This gets at part of the reason I write: I find it easier to express myself in text than by speaking. Although it loses the tone and body language, I find I have never been good at those things anyway. Aside from that, my chronic issues with sensory integration mean that I usually get to express only a fraction of what I actually have to say. This is incredibly frustrating, both in the moment, and later on when I begin to feel regret for not getting in everything I wanted.
This is one reason I feel compelled to write, and why I have a tendency to write long, largely unedited texts rather than short, fleeting social media posts. Despite my preference for privacy and seclusion, I feel deep anxiety that my story is remaining untold. Dealing with chronic disease means being constantly aware that consciousness is far from permanent. I know that any day I may be rendered incapacitated and unable to express the story of my life. Thus, I feel compelled to record what things I can express, and to share what ain’t have learned, so that whatever struggles I may endure shall not be in vain.
But more than this, I feel, in this day and age, that I, and indeed all citizens, have a responsibility to speak up. It has been suggested that among those who have traveled and experienced dislocation as children; that is, among those who identify less with a particular country or home than with abstract concepts and ideas, that there is a marked tendency to become detached. In choosing to be diplomatic and centrist we render ourselves dispassionate bystanders. In our silence, we give, if not consent, at least tacit acceptance. Such a state of affairs, while perhaps tolerable on the level of the individual, cannot be permitted to fester in a democratic society whose entire mandate to rule is based on the consent of the governed. Much as I disdain the gridlock of two-party political dynamics, a certain level of opposition is required to maintain a healthy democracy; if not to oppose the agenda of the ruling coalition outright, then at least to provide a starting point for the critical examination of both new and existing policy.
This is, in fact, the origin of the term “opposition” in the Westminster system. After several decades of rival political parties regarding and referring to each other as scarcely better than treasonous riffraff, a political editorialist coined the term “His Majesty’s most loyal opposition”, meant as a parody of the titles typically taken by government ministers. The intelligentsia of London found the term to be rather apt, seeing as the function of the opposition was mainly to question the work of government in order to ensure that it was fully thought out. It therefore behooves the citizen of the modern society to make known both their views, and the context which has compelled them to adopt such positions, so that both the ruling group, and the population at large is able to more easily come to the best policy conclusions. I have always believed in leading by example, and so I find myself writing.
Between these two reasons, I have my main cause for writing. But there is one more item which compels me to write – the joy of creation. I fundamentally enjoy building things. Whether those things are great constructions of building blocks, hand drawn sketches, board game strategies, or writing pieces, is ultimately of less relevance than the simple fact that I am making something. I am adding value to the world, and I can see the product of my work before me. This, in itself, is enough reason for me to enjoy writing, regardless of whether its perceived value to others.
