Write to Me

A Story by E. M. Ernst

In response to "What is writing to you?"

There are many things that writing is to me, but... there are also tons of things that it is not. Some authors, I suppose, could argue that sitting at a laptop in a coffee shop is writing. Maybe many students also think this as well, that "writing a paper" is punching on keys at their desk, or that "writing a note" is texting blurrily fast. I, however, disagree. Writing... Writing is an event. Something that touches all of your senses at once and makes you go crazy inside with some strange form of building and entirely practical excitement. The smell of fresh paper, the smooth motion of crossing a lowercase t, the feeling of the calloused skin between your middle and index fingers where the little Bic logo on your pen rubs until it becomes unfeeling. Writing is travelling deep into your mind's eyes to perfectly describe Disney World or a lover's eyes as though to the blind without using the words "good," "kind," or "nice," as well as not being too repetitive repetitive repetitive. It's taking down a modern document that may be found in an outlandish time in some trillion years, when our language may have become ancient by then.

To me, all writing comes from a thought. Fortunately, I'm one of those people with many thoughts in a day. Sometimes they can be more developed that others; ones already laced with adjectives, proper grammar, and incredible depth. Others, though, are an inkling. Those ones are my favorite, sometimes just a word like "archival" or "euphoria." They're tiny sparks that I can feed with twigs (words) and branches (pages) until it grows and blossoms into something entirely different and fantastic, with roots digging deeper and deeper into the reader (and sometimes even myself, as the writer). If I was prompted with "pants," the writing can shape itself around the wearer's legs, describing the red leathers or the baggy blue jeans or the maroon and navy plaid pajama pants with something unintelligible scripted across the side. It's the little, intertwining details that captivate a person; writing as the average human thinks and believes. How the dirt smells when I fall into it (like rocks), or the breeze's noise at it rips around my clothes, the grass, and ruffles my hair (as a slow and long whistle). How soft a touch can be when it's most needed, or the ache of "I hate you" from someone you love. How the music isn't just loud, it blares so intensely you can feel it at the tips of your hair. All the small things can sing the tune that's being recorded on the page.

It's also the bigger picture, though... the passionate love of Lois Lane and Superman, how their love can endure even death itself; or the importance of persistence to ultimately defeat Voldemort and restore peace to the Wizarding World. That the reader should always "stay gold," but a good story also instills the desire to experience the pain of a splinter from the raft of Huckleberry Finn or to dig holes in desert heat and fiery lizards with Stanley Yelnats, more commonly known as Caveman. It's the feelings of heartbreak in the panging chords of Adele, but the understanding of "young love" and how it feels to love and never be loved back by Taylor Swift. Writing is just... it's just everywhere, literally everything. I guess I can understand how sitting at a computer can appease some other's writing needs, but not mine. I write for depth, detail, and to convey important and fleeting messages in my thoughts to the reader, even if they don't know me personally (or even if they know me too well...). "What is writing to me?" Writing is my entire brain recorded on a sheet of paper. It's all of my thoughts and feelings racing through my arms, fingers, pens, seeing which can make it to the lines on the page first. The question being asked is much more than a simple five words. It's almost seeming like you're questioning most of my lifestyle; my pastime, my education, what I do during chemistry when I should be paying attention to molecular geometry. It's like comparing a kiss to making deep love... Like beads of sweat compared to a salt lake. Everyone uses writing. I just view it a little differently.