I Write Because.

Writing is a struggle against silence. ~Carlos Fuentes

It’s 6 am in the morning as I sit at my laptop to write this before my kids are up and about. Jan Avellana‘s post inspired me to turn on the machine and write a little something up.

a composition book I made a few years ago for an event at the Fifth Avenue Art Gallery in Melbourne, FL

I write because I’ve always been in love with words. Words, words, beautiful words. Words that flow together. Words that jar. Amazing things, little words. By themselves, they don’t really do anything. But string them together and I can create a thought, a feeling, recreate a memory, hold onto time, create a world. I have always been more of a writer than a talker. I am a quiet person by nature, even my voice is soft. But with words, I can be heard without having to make much effort. Even if it means I am the only one hearing what I have to say. I write in order to confront myself. I write because I have something to say about me, my life, the world I live in. I write because it frees me. Writing releases the tension within. All that I have to hold in in order to be a nurturing mother, a supportive wife, a loving sister, and a general productive member of society. I think of my 3 year old daughter who still is working on not having a fit when she doesn’t get her way. And I think, wow, if only I were allowed to do that…but I can’t, and so I write. I write to make sense of myself. I write because I also hope that my words may help others in knowing that they are not alone in their creative struggles or finding that balance with the demands on our life and our creative needs. I write because it feeds my creative process. How can I know what I want to say with my paintings if I don’t know what I have to say? And so I write to figure it out. I write because I want to hold onto time that I always feel is slipping away. That time that is so fleeting. Time that is my life on this planet. I write to remind myself to give thanks for all that I have. I write it all down to envision the life that I want to create. I write because I truly feel that this time we have on Earth is so wildly precious and so painfully beautiful and I don’t ever want to forget that in the everyday doings of my life. I write because of that feeling of endless potential at the start of each new page, much like a blank canvas. I write in order to hope. I write and I paint because I must.


Why do you write?

I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. ~Richard Wright, American Hunger


  1. when i need inspiration, i come here. for your art pieces, but also for your words.

    “how can I know what I want to say with my paintings if I don’t know what I have to say?”

    indeed, indeed, indeed.
    thank you.

  2. Bridgette,
    So glad you’re back, writing. I read your post this morning, then clicked on the comments section to read Judy Shreve’s blog, someone whose work I didn’t know. There I found the most wonderful quote from Wendell Berry about, well, I guess, being lost. “The mind that is not baffled is not employed.The impeded stream is the one that sings.” Having felt baffled a lot lately, reading Berry’s words really lifted me. Never know just how words are going to make a difference.

    1. So true Mary. If everything seemed so clear and known…well, then there’s be nothing worth investigating!Glad you found your way to Judy’s blog. I always enjoy visiting her there.

  3. Every so often I read something that I wish I’d written . . . something that voices some part of me. Your post was one of those ‘something’s’.

  4. This is poetry to me Bridgette. And your words absolutely resonated with me. Quite a beautiful, thought-provoking, and compelling post!

  5. Catching up with posts and enjoying this one in particular. Love your book of hope and dreams and your thoughts about writing. I’m so glad your life is settling back to normal after the trauma of the floods Bridgette. I can’t imagine how devastating it must have been.

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