I write to express myself in a way that is both deeply intimate and radically public.
I write because that’s what I done since age 11. Those first years of journalling became an essential part of my adolescence and carried into my early twenties.
I write because I am compelled to document my observations, ordinary and unoriginal, so that they may one day become something extraordinary and authentic.
I write in order to fully explore those questions that are the most difficult to answer, and are perhaps unanswerable, but still I have to try.
I write because it’s simple. Away from my computer, I scratch out thoughts on napkins, receipts and old grocery lists that remain crumpled in my purse.
I write because it’s complicated. Language itself is a puzzle to me. I am bilingual, and yet not naturally gifted at putting thoughts down on paper.
I write because I read. I crave words that are spicy, romantic, influential, heartbreaking and funny. I find them in books and by listening to others. And on occasion, I find them in what I have written… in this blog, in my journal or in a letter.
I write to inspire.
I write to lift up my soul.
I write to simply be.
I write just because.
Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers. — Isaac Asimov