I’ve talked before about the barbell of writing that I employ. At one end is short-form, the other, long-form. This blog is where I focus on birthing ideas, on coming up with things, on thinking in interesting and novel ways. My books are where I take a compelling idea and attempt to squeeze the life out of it.
I know all this. But it wasn’t until I read that question and asked it of myself that I realised why writing is a such a profound activity for me. Most have heard Descartes’ famous adage, “I think, therefore I am.” I would modify that. Initially, I thought I’d change it to, “I think, therefore I write.” But that’s wrong, for me. Many are prodigious enough thinkers that they need to write to stop themselves from overflowing, from exploding. Like a bathtub whose taps cannot be turned off, they need to find a way to extract the water. Not me. “I write, therefore I think.” Writing is the engine that drives my thought, not the other way around. It compels me to wonder about things I wouldn’t otherwise have imagined.
This is why I wish I’d have done it earlier, and why I’ve committed to doing it until I die. I write, therefore I think.