Why Do I Write!

By: Shaista Khurshid, Calgary, Alberta

I have always been an avid reader since my childhood. I liked to read. I think when parents, caregivers or teachers introduce different exploration and critical thinking methods to their kids, including reading, it is a wonderful, life-long gift to them. With a sincere desire to learn and a passionate heart to follow, this gift keeps giving.

For me, the mysteries of the universe, like the nature of objects and humans, intrigued me. I desired to understand people, so I observed humanity and its nuances. I still do. I wanted to explore the complexity of life. I wanted to understand the laws Allah has made for humanity and how it helps us to stay human,given that the man made laws usually have loopholes, or sometimes they do not work fairly and equally for all people. Museums and libraries are magnets to me. The houses with bookshelves full of books, feel like a magical palace, where every room has a new theme, new life, or a new world.

The lifelong habit of reading pushed me to have understanding, opinions, and voice. I thought, I challenged, I connected the dots, I spoke; until people around me started to say, Shaista, you have so much to say, write!

Write? An intriguing word, a mystery in itself. Does it have to do something with me? Would it belong to me, ever? It all seemed like nonsense.

I thought and thought. Why should I? What will be the purpose of it? What benefit will it bring to anyone? Do I have something credible to say? Can I write something to lift someone up or sooth and calm their mind or fazed hearts? I do not know. There must be a purpose. There must be a need.

I keep on thinking and thinking, and it feels like this quest is not for me. In the meantime, my head keeps on generating stories; vivid, enticing, and full of mysteries and suspense. They force me to think, should I change them into words and get them out of my head? Put it where they can live a life of their own, maybe for some time.

Perfection and fear are killers of anything creative. I know myself, and one of my weaknesses among many is perfectionism. It means I am a scared little cat. The one who never wants to get out of her little cubby assigned to her, because she is deathly scared of not producing anything but perfection. Though I deeply understand the illusion of perfectionism as there is nothing in this world that we do which is perfect and will never be. That's how this world is designed. The only one who is perfect is Allah. Do I have let go of my fear, my illusion of perfection, yes I do, big time. I am working on it wholeheartedly, you bet.

Fear is terrifying, however baseless it is.

Is it terrifying for me to think that people will read my words and form their opinions? Yes it is. It is totally daunting when your intimate words, which are living inside you for so long, get out into this huge world where they will be judged and compared. Then there will be opinions about you, open, honest, and brutal. Opinions about you, your writing, and your family.

You feel like an imposter. You think, why did you start this whole mess? Why did you write that? Why? You don’t belong here. This is a dignified place for authors and writers, who bring forward something authentic. This place is not for you.

But this is not all so bad. Fear has multiple facets. There are other monsters lurking under the bed.

What if, what if only, no one ever sees your work. Your work, to which you have put so much effort in. You poured your soul into it. Your time, your heart , your sanity. You keep on writing and writing. Until your fingers gave way. You lived with your character. You sobbed on their dilemma. You applauded at their triumphs and now when finally have their life of their own; they are rejected.

I do not know why I have an itch to write something. Why do I want to have an opinion about most things? Why do I want to reach out to people and say something? Uplift their day, cheer them up, give something tangible, make their lives easier. People are busy and they do not need my words. They have videos and sound bytes. Entertainment is available for them twenty-four seven. Maybe my words do not bring them what I want for them. They might not need me. But I need myself. I know who I am, and what I want is to write. Good or bad. Simple or complex, helpful, or not, not so amazing, but it is my writing and it is a work in progress. You bet!

Besides, if I or people like me don’t want to write, then how would a reader like me, read, and explore the nuances of the world and beyond myself? Thought provoking? Maybe.

Cover Photo by Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash