Writing into the Void
This piece will be more personal. It’s not that I feel too lazy to tackle complex questions. It’s just that, sometimes, I need to shout into the void.
When I was around seven years old, I went on a hike in the forest. Not alone, mind you; I was staying at a summer camp (sorry for those who thought I was raised by wolves). Anyway, I digress.
We walked for hours. Alright, probably not that long, but you know how, when you are young, time seems to pass slower. After this long-for-a-seven-year-old climb, we reached an elevated point where we faced a cliff in the distance. Our guide told us to shout and see what would happen.
I gave it a go, yelling “Allo!” in my native French. To my stupefaction, what I got back was the echo of my own voice. No one was on the other side to hear me, let alone reply.
Today, as I write this piece, I realize how similar writing is to this experience. I am still at the beginning of my journey. Each post, each note, feels a lot like shouting into the void. I see the engagement established writers receive, and I can’t help but reevaluate whether my voice is worth being heard at all.
Yet, simultaneously, I remember the fascination I felt all these years ago when I heard the echo of my own voice coming back to me. In some strange way, the mountains reflecting my own words felt far more interesting than anyone replying from the other side.
Writing is an act of communication, but it is also an act of reflection, exploration, and introspection. Laying your thoughts onto the page is like bringing order to chaos. Disparate ideas get organized. Vague intuitions become clearer. Unexamined opinions are dispelled or reinforced. The world starts making a little more sense.
And reading your own work allows you to examine your thoughts even further. Words that made so much sense when they left the end of your pen or the tips of your fingers suddenly sound off when you come back to them.
When you write, and more importantly when your words reflect your thoughts back to you, your ideas become easier to evaluate and reconsider than if they had remained half-hidden in the fog of your mind.
The act of writing is intrinsically worth it, much like shouting like no one else can hear you. And the written trace of your thoughts, even if solely reread by you, justifies the effort.
Write into the void. There is nothing wrong with only getting back echo.