There’s something about writing that writers find tremendously powerful and practical. I’m often asked why (and how) I myself enjoy it, given its lack of favor among the general public, particularly with high school and college students. I prefer the solo written assignment over the group project. Give me a ten-page paper any day. Just, please, for the love of God, don’t make record a video presentation.
The truth of the matter is that my preference for writing is simply preference. Since I could first scrawl my (misspelled) name in illegible blue ink, I fell for the written word and simply kept pursuing it through novels and writing of my own. I loved its lyricism, its unique way of conveying meaning through representation, and perhaps most importantly, I loved the stories it could so wonderfully produce. As an introvert, writing allowed me to think indefinitely about my words before saying them. As a perfectionist, I could make sure these words were said exactly as I wanted them to be said (or, at least, close enough). Writing simply became the outlet of communication I found most powerful and practical in my life. The more I practiced writing, the richer and more potent it became in my life.
This sort of process reflects the concept of channel expansion theory. In short, my ability to communicate well via written word is a result of my overall experience with writing since childhood. After initially falling in love with the skill, I continued to increase my vocabulary and syntax by writing anything (and everything) I could on paper. While these short sketches were hardly the works of genius, they steadily improved as I continued to practice throughout the years. Soon, writing became second nature, a form of communication that almost supersedes my verbal communication, and it is undoubtedly my go-to preference for conveying any and all meaning.