Why You Should Start Writing Everything Down

Writing is the conversion of energy into mass.

It cements the words born from your mind right into the heart of the universe. It ingrains these tiny marks, these little pieces of you, into the fabric of life. It converts the energy of your brain into tangible, cosmic molecules — particles of ink on paper.

But writing does more than that.

It emphasises your thought energy. It reiterates and refuels it. It helps your mind focus on those words specifically, allowing you to visualise and question and to take control. Having the words there before you, gazing patiently up at your beautiful but busy face, is a gentle reminder. A slight nudge. A friendly psst, hey you, you up there with that dazzling smile, you got some stuff to do today, my friend. Quite a lot of stuff, actually. But don’t worry! I got you! Just keep fluttering those incredible lashes of yours in my direction and I’ll refresh your memory. No problemo. You scratch (words, via ink, onto) my back, I scratch yours. Now ain’t that right?

Writing is a fundamental force. It binds things together. It manifests them. It both brings life and encourages it. Writing, in it’s many forms, is universal and it’s timeless.

So whatever it is, for whatever reason, write the damn thing down.

Silly (or so they’ll have you believe) reasons.

Even if it’s just a recipe to some form of mutated British crossover dessert that you dreamt about last night. Because, hey! It might end up in an award-winning sitcom one day (here’s to you, Rachel Green, and your dedicated – and unaware – attempt to merge a trifle and a Shepard’s pie. I’d have eaten it. But I’d eat anything).

Write it down, because it could be worth more than you realise. And if not, if that scribbled on train ticket sits sleepily beside your hairbrush for the foreseeable future, then that’s okay, too. Because it’s still another tiny piece of you, roaming freely about the universe. That in itself is invaluable.

Intricate, soul-sustaining reasons.

Your entire mind is like an unmanned TV network. Brimming with programmes and films and adverts and news reports. Writing your thoughts and feelings down is like finally hiring some staff. A manager and an in-house chef (because we all need snacks, job or not). Just somebody who can organise the mess, form a schedule, devise a plan, restore some kind of semblance.

If your pour your turbulent innards onto the page, they’ll sit there all pretty, blinking back at you. You can manage them, face to face, filtering through what’s wildly important and what’s more tamely important (that’s a thing, right?). It gives you the opportunity to do research into your own soul, digging deep, figuring out how you feel, what you want, what’s bothering you, uncovering and unearthing and just putting your thoughts out into the universe.

And you never know, maybe in doing so, the universe will give you a loving nudge in the right direction.

No reason at all.

The same way I’m always tempted to shove my cat off the back of the sofa whenever she’s snoozing up there (I don’t, mostly) and how I will always buy a bar of Cadbury’s Darkmilk whenever I’m within a two miles radius of one (I do, always) – not everything needs an explicit reason. Sometimes we just do things because we can.

So write, for no reason at all, because you can. Stream-of-consciousness it, brother. Whatever is in your mind this very second, splurge it onto a page like Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls with her word vomit. Even if it’s cruel, even if it’s an addition to your not-so-secret Burn Book. Write words, any words, foreign words, made up words, words you don’t actually know how to spell. Not sure what to write down? Write that! Write oh crap I’m not sure a thousand times over until you are.

The act of writing is equivalent to the act of finally picking your giraffe socks up off the floor and tidying them up. You’re clearing your carpet. You’re clearing your mind.

As any scientist will tell you (not that I’m claiming to be a scientist. Although. I mean. Well. Cough. Who are we kidding? Look mom I got a degree!) to decipher the truth behind any theory, you must test it first. So if you don’t believe me, if you think writing things out is pointless and trivial and a waste of your precious time — then hey man, why not give it a try first? If it turns out that writing just doesn’t work for you then that’s okay, you can tick it off your non-physical list (as we’ve established that you seem to loathe any form of paper-pen-system here) and go hunt down what does work.

Just remember, though, that writing — like language, like communication — is universal. It’s timeless. Not just in that crafting a fictional universe so wonderfully profound it now has it’s own branch at Disneyland mode of writing. It doesn’t have to be an award-winning poem or an era-defining screenplay. It doesn’t even have to be seen by anybody but you and the sleepy ghosts lingering beneath your bed-frame.

Writing is just a way of connecting yourself to the world. Of rooting you to the Earth whilst simultaneously setting you free.

And I have a sneaky feeling that it just might be of use.