Essay
Why I Write
- 1392 words
“Why do you write?” is a question I seem to get asked a lot, but one that I struggle to answer. I have never had an answer I’m happy with because I haven’t previously written an explanation on why I write; hence this post.
Writing isn’t a thing I do for the sake of it. It is an itch, a compulsion, a joy. A desire to output – to share ideas. To spread my mind on the page for consumption and inspection. I am inspired when I read and inclined to add my own voice to the conversation, to contribute my thoughts to the collective pool.
Writing is part of being able to communicate thoughts, which is a fundamental building block towards most work and intellectual activities. This post intends to cover not only why I write, but also to an extent why I prefer writing to other mediums.
Forming Thought
“Writing is refined thinking.”
— Stephen King
If there is any one reason I write, it is summed up by the quote above. I think better and more clearly on and about a topic when I write about it. Specifically, to write cohesively forces me to untangle the erratic thoughts sprinting around my head into a clear linear thread.
Sometimes I start untangling a thought from the mass, and it brings others with it. Sometimes thoughts are too long and unwieldy, which necessitates cutting them off and bridging the gap with others. Sometimes they’re knotted in my mind, and I have to slowly tease them apart or straighten them out.
Often once I start laying my thoughts into something cohesive, I begin to find gaps that weren’t obvious in the swirling mass of my mind. It is incredibly easy to lose sight of the bigger concept and find myself completely blind to fundamental holes in an idea or concept when restrained to the interior of my mind. Writing – at least of the rational and empirical kind – requires filling the gaps and strengthening the overall structure of the idea.
I need to know what I’m talking about when I’m writing, as it is painfully obvious if I don’t. Sometimes the gaps can be straightened out with ease; other times I must probe the crevices of my mind; and often still I must resort to research, which not only fills the gaps and improves my writing but also acts to educate me.
In writing I must also come to question myself and my beliefs. Opinion and bias are baked into every word every writer has ever written, whether they like it or not. Writing has many times pressured me to form opinions and define beliefs, even if just to find an angle.
Writing acts to prompt a slightly different type of thinking, especially if forgoing pairing it with video, audio, or imagery. You must be able to describe senses with text.
An Urge to Express and Create
“Writing is the painting of the voice.”
— Voltaire
I am a creative person (or at the very least a person who creates), and I can think of few joys more than being able to manifest the mind. To make thought tangible.
Writing is a creative medium, regardless of content. As with many creative endeavours, writing is personal. I’m tearing chunks off my soul and hurling them into the belly of the beast 1 for others to find, to resonate with, or challenge.
Words are powerful; they can alter the mind. Writing is like any art – it can change moods, influence thoughts, cut someone down or sharpen them up. Words are addictive to both read and write, much like the ideas they can spread. Sharing one idea can germinate many more, and ideas are often considered dangerous.
I can think of few greater pleasures than finalising a piece of writing and pushing it into the world; to see my words edited, refined, typeset, and out in the wild.
Precision and Craftsmanship
“Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man.”
— Francis Bacon
Words are precise – or at least they can be. They can be left vague or wielded with unambiguous precision. They can be revised and altered at my will, and words can be chosen with care when writing in a way they can’t in speech. Writing permits me to articulate thought with far greater precision than would be possible on the fly. Well-written words possess a certain sharpness; they can effectively deconstruct a complex issue or carefully construct a nuanced argument.
Words remain extremely flexible and adaptable – one must only look to puns, metaphor, and the fluidity of language for evidence of this.
Accessibility
“The power of the Web is in its universality. Access by everyone regardless of disability is an essential aspect.”
— Tim Berners-Lee
Writing also has huge benefits that places it head and shoulders above other mediums as far as my needs are concerned. Other mediums such as audio and video are fantastic for a lot of things but require specific technologies and bandwidth. For conveying complex knowledge and information, text is king. The written word is remarkably adaptable and inherently inclusive, especially on the web.
Text is minuscule in file size – it requires minimal data and is thus easily accessible on older machines and slower networks. Text is the universal language of the internet 2 and computing. It can be displayed on almost any device, with any operating system, using countless applications, making the content truly portable.
The very structure of written language makes it seamlessly compatible with assistive technologies. Crucially, regardless of whether someone is reading the text visually, listening to it via a screen reader, consuming it through braille, or interacting with it another way, they are receiving the exact same core content and message. This stands in contrast to visual media where alternative text or audio descriptions might provide information about the content but can’t possible emulate the content itself in its primary form.
This fundamental adaptability ensures that the ideas I wish to share are available through multiple modalities, catering to a wider range of needs and preferences without diluting or changing the message. This makes writing, in my view, one of the most democratising, accessible, and spreadable forms of communication available today.
Regarding AI
Some people have asked why I share anything online when it is destined to be consumed by AI. The truth is that I’m in two minds about it.
The first thought process follows the mentality that my output is being stolen from me and that I should fight the scrapers to the fullest extent I can. My work is taken, chewed up, and spat out – in many cases without any reference to me. However, the entire concept of this being classified as theft is objectionable.
The second follows the thought that I benefit from AI scraping. It can be useful when it pulls in context about me when I use it and my work, potentially making it more discoverable or allowing me to influence how AI understands and represents my perspective. My values, preferences, ideas, and thoughts have influence over AI models and will affect how they are aligned. By trying to avoid being scraped, I’m deliberately erasing myself from history. I’m also hiding my work from the growing league of AI search engines.
In any case, whether I’m willing or not, anything I make that is accessible to humans will be accessible to scrapers. It is a fight I cannot win. I don’t make specific considerations to allow my work to be scraped, but I would ultimately consider it a waste of time that could be better spent to resist it. Resistance is futile.
In essence, I write because it is a powerful tool for defining, refining, and structuring my often erratic thoughts into a coherent, linear form. I write out of an innate need for expression and the desire to create tangible artefacts from the intangible realm of ideas. I write because I value the precision and craftsmanship that the medium allows. And I write because it is one of the most inherently accessible and democratising ways to share information and perspectives in the modern world. It is, quite simply, a core part of how I engage with the world and process my place within it.