why we write...
I think that anyone who has gone into a major bookstore over the past decade has probably noticed the flood of books on all sorts of topics, ranging from fiction, to autobiography to completely random thoughts on life (hmm...sort of like a blog?).
There have been several articles written about the increase in the number of published books recently. This article is from the NY Times.
So, the question is why? Why so many more books? Why blogs? An obvious answer for the books is that they make money, and wouldn't be published if they didn't. But that still doesn't answer the question of blogs. What's the attraction?
A possible reason for this occurred to me awhile ago (and I doubt I'm the only one who has thought of this).
Each of us has a story to tell, and that story is always unique, but also connected to the rest of world sufficiently that we feel others might get something out of hearing that story. We want to share our lives with others. We want our lives validated by knowing that others care about us and what has happened in our lives.
I suppose that this is a part of the reason behind my starting a blog. I do truly want to keep in touch with all my of friends and family, but an integral part of that is knowing that my life and my experiences matter to someone else.
Is this perhaps part of the reason why so many people want children? Who would care more about your life (aside from you yourself) than your children, who wouldn't even exist if it hadn't been for the events that shaped you? So, do we reproduce in order to satisfy our desire to have the importance of our lives acknowledged and cherished? As someone who is still wrestling with the decision of whether to have children or not, I think that this motivation is a significant one. (But the discussion of reasons to reproduce or not is a long one and will be saved for future blogs.)
So these are my final thoughts on this...
Perhaps the greatest gift that we can give those around us is to listen to their story and tell them that it means something to us. Ultimately, saying words of caring to someone means little, if we are unwilling to listen to them tell us about their lives. I hope that I listen to each of you, and if I don't, please tell me. I want to hear your story as much as I want you to hear mine.
Love,
J
