I am a writer. I like being able to express myself with words, and being able to somehow share what I learn and educate other people in the process. With each assignment, I am inducted into unfamiliar terrain – a whole new world, if you will – and I love that I am allowed (and even paid) to share my thoughts and fascinations with other people.
I love how writing is an intellectual pursuit. Though the tough assignments drain the heck out of me, I love that I am able to exercise the dormant neurons in my head. I imagine them crackling to life when an idea or a realization about something I’m analyzing occurs, like a weak light bulb that hasn’t felt the surge of electricity for quite some time now pulsing to life.
I like words too, and there is a certain delight that comes with finding the right word or phrase that only writers will understand. Language is a beautiful thing, and the fact that the English language is alive – therefore, changing constantly – gives me a bit of relief, knowing it will always provide me with something new to learn.
I like that my work is something that is both creative and scientific. The methods we employ in gathering data and structuring our ideas sort of border into the scientific, but expressing these data and ideas on paper is always a creative exercise. This is what differentiates us from academics writing in journals and fiction writers; the former is highly technical, while the latter is purely creative. Journalism/reportage is both.
I also love learning new things. The school of life is something I will never graduate from. I seek challenges always, and while conquering them is a goal I ardently pursue, it is something I fear too because mastering something inevitably brings about a sense of boredom. And so I constantly search for the next lesson, the next challenge.
I fear that one day, writing will no longer present enough challenges to keep me interested and fulfilled. That writing will someday be a job and no longer a passion. That, no different from the suited workers who trudge to their office everyday, I will also someday be writing because I need to; not because I want to.
So yes, I am a writer, but I am not only a writer. I am not defined by the career I choose for now. It is an expression of who I am through a talent I have been given. I am a student of life, with boundless curiosity, seeking a creative outlet. I can be a photographer, substituting words with images. I can be an advertising creative, dealing with market research data instead of journalism research. I can be someone else; something else. I can be anything I choose to be.
