As I feel my pen scratch along a piece of thin, pale paper, I know what liberation is. The act of writing, of transferring ideas from my mind to my paper is the most freeing concept imaginable. Being a writer means not only experiencing this rush, this surge of adrenaline, but craving it. Longing to express thoughts by giving them words and phrases.
A writer is not simply a writer, though. Writers are painters, creating detailed pictures not on canvas, but in the minds of readers. The eloquent stroke of a brush is mimicked by the flowing formation of phrases and thoughts. Writers paint images that are often more realistic than those created by even the greatest artists, establishing in them an enjoyment of not only the expression of thoughts, but of a beautiful way of doing it. The artistic talent of writers truly cannot be ignored.
A writer is not restricted to art, either, though. Writers are speakers, performing speeches through the lines of their pages. Writers work to persuade, inspire, and spark action in their readers with the same intensity as a politician. Ideas and viewpoints are clearly expressed by writers every day, making them a whole new section of speakers never before analyzed.
Based on these ideas, it is apparent that a writer cannot be clearly defined as anything at all. While explicitly describing a writer is impossible, the importance of these people is indisputable.
As soon as written language was invented, it was being abundantly utilized. Ancient people wove classic stories of their ancestors into stone, some of which are still being told today.
As time went on, people began writing new stories, and detailing the things that went on in their daily lives. Without writing, historians would be clueless about everything that happened hundreds of years ago, and would unable to learn from past mistakes. These ancient writers, the artists and speakers of years past, have allowed writing to develop and flourish into the creative, enjoyable institution it is today.
So as I sit down, whether it be at a school desk or on my bed at home, I think of these early people. As I feel the fragility of the pen pressed between my fingers, I picture it as a paintbrush, as a microphone.
A writer is an artist. A writer is a speaker. A writer is a historian, a researcher, a scholar, an influencer, a dreamer, and a fighter. But as my pen glides along between printed blue lines or my hands sweep over a keyboard, I know what a writer is above all else: important.