This Will Never Be Taken From Me

How my writing keeps me alive

When I briefly taught creative writing, there was a lesson I’d try to hammer into my students: art is a form of survival. It all starts with expression.

Let me put it this way: imagine you have a traditional 9-5 that you wake up for. Whether you enjoy the work or not, a job is a job, and you need to get ready for it whenever it comes up. So you get ready for work, go to work, and stay at work for as long as you have to. And you end the day tired. You’re ready to go home. You stop by the grocery store if you have to. But otherwise, you go home. And you’re ready to rest, which you welcome wholeheartedly because you have to get up early tomorrow to do the same thing. Again and again. Over and over again.

Existentially, this sounds dreadful. And it is. There’s no denying the Sisyphean nature behind our social and economic obligations. You’re pushing a rock up a hill, and you’re supposed to be happy about it.

But what if you’re not happy about it? What do you do then?

Well, you can quit. But maybe you shouldn’t. Not with the news of rising unemployment and layoffs. Maybe this is the only job you’ll have for a minute, and you’d be wise to keep it.

So what then? First, I have to point out that my answer is not the answer. That is, this lesson I implemented was, more than anything, my personal opinion. But I shared it anyway due to—I don’t know—how much it made sense. And that is that you have to have some sort of outlet to express yourself and how you’re feeling.

Ironically enough, that’s very hard to do if you are not an artist. If you are an artist, it’s second nature.

Philosophically, I argue that art is the highest form of expression. Sure, you can easily turn to your Netflix account and start binge-watching your favorite series. Or you can pour yourself a glass of wine and wind down. Maybe you can invite some friends to hang out—whoever is free and willing, that is. Play a video game. Take a warm bath. Talk to your therapist. The point is to have something that relaxes you and takes your mind off the troubles of your life and the world in general.

For artists, however, the answer is your craft. Musicians can sing a song. Poets can write a verse. Filmmakers can craft a short film. Dancers can dance. The artist creates.

They always say how hard it is to be an artist. But they never tell you how hard it is not to be an artist. How hard it is to neglect your passion, craft, and true self.

As life carries on, I’ve come to reflect that my writing, whether I make a solid career out of it or not, will be something that will never be taken away from me. I could be laid off from my job. A studio might want to replace me with AI. God forbid anything of the sort comes to pass. But regardless of what happens, I will always be able to write, dance, act, and create. My writing will help me survive, just as it has before.

That will never be taken from me.