Why Write?

         "Describe the world." The teacher's expression was unreadable. The always-bright girl sitting in the front seat expectedly replied that the world was beautiful. The constantly-angered boy next to her muttered that the world was too beautiful. One by one, students gave out adjectives reflecting just how easy their lives were. When it seemed like the whole class had given a description, the teacher noticed that one girl, normally very happy, had grown quite thoughtful and had not answered.

         "No description from you?" The teacher's voice contained both surprise and doubt. He knew she had just yet to speak.

         She knew that it was to her that he was speaking. She pondered a moment longer then looked up directly into his eyes.

          "Grueling." The one-word sentence was not what the teacher expected, not from anyone in that classroom, especially that girl. She seemed to have everything and anything even slightly difficult seemed to just roll off of her; she rose above any challenge. His face showed his astonishment then his confusion.

         "Grueling? How so?" He did not usually engage students in conversation, especially not in class, but he was so curious as to her thought process that he couldn't help himself.

         "There are children starving, fighting every day to survive. Adults must work, day in and day out, the same monotonous job. And even us," here she pointed around the classroom, "with our 'perfect' lives - it's all a lie. They're not perfect, no matter what people think. We do the same thing every day; and at this age, when everything seems to be so important, and everyone is so dramatic, our emotions are constantly being used and abused. In short, this life is grueling."

         After she had finished her little speech, she looked around the classroom into the shocked faces which slowly turned into looks of acknowledgement. Everyone had taken it as just the normal way of life, but when they stopped and thought about it, they realized that she was right - their lives were grueling. Their emotions were tied to strings that any- and everyone could yank about to their pleasure. Slowly the atmosphere of the room grew from one of general happiness to general discontent. The teacher momentarily feared a revolt. He decided to continue the conversation, sensing that he had more attention than he had had in a long time.

         "And just how do you fix that?" His voice was smug, as most adult' voices in his position would be, but his voice also contained curiosity. He, too, had realized that his life was grueling, and he wanted to know a way to escape.

         A serene smile lighted upon the girl's face. "I write." Her mind was already far away thinking of her writing. As if she could feel that her answer had satisfied no one, she continued, still lost in another world. "When we were children, we were read fairy tales. They took us far away to another time where we were not involved; and the smartest of children knew that they were fiction, so they need not let their emotions empathize with the characters. Now, it is unacceptable for us to indulge in fairy tales. We are told that we are too old and that such nonsense will do us no good. So I no longer read fairy tales; I write them. I choose the far-away time and place. I choose the characters and their flaws. I choose what happens and what emotions need to be felt. Writing is a release and a balance to your emotions. When you have pent-up anger, you can write a story that will anger you for the characters' sakes. When you are sad, you can write a story that will make you cry or write a story that will make you laugh. You know the best remedy for your emotions, and you can write that remedy. When you cannot decide between two sides, write of the argument that each side will defend. Decide who has the stronger argument. Remove yourself from the situation, and look at it with a third party's eye. You gain your reason back. When you have something to tell and no one worthy to tell it to, tell a character. Even just writing it down can do a world of good."

         Here she paused to let her words sink in. When she could feel the desire to write forming in some minds, she continued. "When stories are written for others' enjoyment, they can be good; but when stories are written for the author's enjoyment, not only does he find them better, but others see the passion unleashed upon the story, and it gives that story a whole new purpose and life. A brand new notebook and pencil or pen in your hand induce the strongest desire to write, and to write worthily. It encourages your creativity to thrive and flourish and your knowledge of the language to expand. It challenges you and grows you."

         At this, the teacher stared at her, then slowly walked back to his desk, sat down, and thought. The rest of the class was still contemplating what she had said. After many moments of silence, the teacher finally stood up to address the class. All waited with anticipation to see what his response would be, if he would even respond. The teacher faced the class and composed himself.

         "Class, get out your notebooks. Today, we are going to write."