Why I Write by Ingrid Lochamire
There’s a yellow folder in my file cabinet that I’ve shared with just a handful of people. In it are the awkward and innocent poems and essays of an introverted teenager with a head full of ideas and dreams, pieces riddled with questions but very few answers. Alongside them are short stories featuring the adventures of a perky and popular camp counselor who solved mysteries and always got the cute guy in the end.
When I wrote those essays, poems and stories decades ago, I was trying to figure things out. I still am.
And I’m still writing.
Sometimes I write for myself. Journal entries about my children and husband, about travels, friendship, insights from Bible studies and time reading scripture fill bound books and spiral notebooks. They weren’t intended for other eyes, but recently a son admitted he’d come across my words about the birth of his youngest brother. He was touched. I was blessed.
I also write for public consumption, usually because ….
- I need to make something beautiful out of a collision with breast cancer
- I want to understand the millennial generation
- I am confused and frustrated by what’s going in the world
- I am blessed and challenged by people who are making a difference
- I am inspired by scripture or the words of a thought-full book
- I hope others will think about issues that matter and maybe do something about them
I write because I can’t NOT write – which I think is the case for most people who put pen to paper (or fingers on keys, brushes to canvas, lyrics to melody.)
We are creating our own sustenance.
We create, and we are “breathing dreams like air.” F. Scott Fitzgerald
Ingrid Lochamire writes from her family’s farm in northeast Indiana and at her favorite nearby coffee shop (where she’s also a part-time barista). A former news reporter and homeschooling mom, she writes creative non-fiction and has begun work on a novel. Most recently, her essay “The Creek” was featured at www.topologymagazine.org. She blogs regularly at www.ingridsjourney.com