A few days ago, I met up with some old school friends for the first time this summer. It’s quite bizarre meeting people who you haven’t seen in months, and then remembering that you used to see them everyday almost without fail in the receding past. One of the comments that stood out though, was from a friend who is also a writer. He’s more a poet and playwright, and to speak generally we’re almost total opposites of each other. It’s uncanny.
“Do you still write?”
That’s the question that’s prompted this whole post in fact. From one writer to another, I was asked whether I still wrote. I don’t blame him, I never really posted much, or sent anything too him. All he knows is the evasive answers I once gave when pressed about what I write. Anyway, my reaction was to say of course I still wrote, and proceeded to tell him in more detail about the latest series I’m working on.
What struck me at the moment was how apt the question was. To me, I interpreted it not simply as a straight question. When it registered, it provoked me. Of course I still write, though I should actually talk about it a lot more in person. But, it helped me understand why I still write. Writing is something we can all claim to do, whether it’s a short story we wrote ages ago, or something you’ve continuously worked on for the past few years. Being a writer is something that rejects distinctions between past and present. Simply, if you’ve written something, regardless, you are a writer. Yes, I write, and I know why too. Not for some idea of instructing or simply even telling a story. I write because it’s fun.