There are many reasons why we write, and previously I have written about writing as a way to discovery, and to understanding. This is the practical element of writing, a way to make it seem useful, to express purpose. It is justification of writing as adding or contributing something of substance to our lives. For without an obvious benefit that has to do with results, something tangible, then why would we ever do it?

But what about the beauty? What about its evocative nature? What about how it feels to create words, watching them magically appear on the screen, as though they came from nowhere? It is the pleasure of forming words in one’s mind that draws me to writing. I write more easily using a computer, but I love the weight of a good pen in my hands, the way the nib feels as it rubs across the page. The colour of the ink, the thickness of the stroke; all these things add to the sensory experience. And that is all before we enter into the realm of creation that writing brings. With a few words, we can transport ourselves and others to unimagined places, to the ends of the earth, or out into space. We can explore other periods in history, and the private spaces of homes we would never, will never, visit in person. We will dwell inside the minds of people we’ve never met – some of whom have never existed in the realm of the living. We will ponder a problem that will never face us in real life, from the point of view of someone whose life is so far away from our own as to seem alien; escapism in its purest form.

And so, once we get past the functional (the practical, the purpose, the usefulness of writing), move on to the sensual (the physical experience of writing), we eventually arrive at the evocative (where the writing takes us), and I believe this is probably the most important reason for writing. When we write, or when we read, we want to be transported. We want to escape, and we want our senses to tingle. The evocative nature of writing connects with our deepest needs as human beings.

There is so much in writing and reading that comes from the subconscious. When listening, and desperately trying to get down what we are hearing, we are merely a conduit for impressions, thoughts and ideas that are virtually pouring out of us. What lands on the page is sometimes surprising, delightful, and other times a dismay. That’s what makes writing so exciting, so confronting, and sometimes so frightening. When we read, we can be swept along at breakneck pace, racing over words, our brains just filling in details that may be very different to the writer’s intent. But while held in the grip of the evocative, we are fully present, holding on to our hats, thrilling in the ride.

That’s what we’re there for. We want to evoke, and we want to experience the evocative. Simply put, we want to surrender to, and to exist in the evocative nature of writing; breathing it, feeling it, losing ourselves in the multitude of rooms in this great house. In the end, what we long for (though it might not be something we would  readily admit) is abandon.