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I don’t know why we write… I mean, I know we each have our own array of various different reasons behind why we write when we do, and from the most complex to the very simplest of reasons too. But I think that what we write about says a great deal in itself with regards to why it is we’re really, truly in the act of writing.
I don’t wish to go too in depth with this but it’s just that sometimes when I go to write I wonder what it is I am writing for, and I find that when the reason is something external from myself such as the spread of knowledge, or the intent to help others or even to just put my say out there for the world to possibly appreciate; the external reason tends to create a written piece less personal, and somewhat less genuine than a piece with say no reason other than me simply trying to understand and express a point to and for myself. I think that expressing and addressing ones curiousity in public posts that are for anyones eyes to be seriously exciting… To have even the slightest possibility of another’s eyes investigating the written word of your hearts mind with the ability to judge, criticize and even add an opinion on is something I find to be seriously thrilling in all honesty.
I can’t speak for everybody but I do think that creating the idea of any possible audience whilst we write alters our creative flow by the way in which we wind up directing, and/or sensoring that which is born from within: pure creativity, which should really remain untouched and unaltered from inside out in order for it to harbor the same flow and be ever potent with the very strain of energy that gave it life.
The best, and most genuine creativity to me is the kind that is omnipotent- the kind that is truly felt when it is absorbed into the heart by the eyes of an observer.