Writing for Myself

Sometimes your writing shouldn’t be shared with others.

Occasionally I get worked up, emotions running high.  Sometimes I call my mom, sometimes I dance, but lately there has been a lot of writing.  When I’m creating a story and a scene gets stuck in my head, I write it out and it leaves me alone.  The same thing happens when I put my rants on paper.

For example, I recently had to sit on an airplane near a couple of people who were discussing politics.  That’s probably not the best way to describe it; they were making snide, obnoxious comments about the candidate I support, loud enough that most of the people around them could hear.  In my opinion, that’s not a very nice way to behave around a large group of people.  Regardless, it ended up getting me very fired up.  Flying already puts me in a grumpy mood, and that just put it over the top.  So when I was sitting in the airport on the next layover, I pulled out my notebook and wrote.  The ink is thick, the pressure is heavy, and it covers two pages.

Clearly, that is writing that shouldn’t ever see the light of day.  Fortunately, it got the irritation out and served its purpose, whether or not it was writing for others.  This was writing for me.