Embracing Purposeful Pointlessness: The Joy of Writing and the Art of Expression

I’ve decided to start this Instagram account called 101DaysOfCreativity, with the idea being to commit myself to doing what I love, using positive peer pressure to keep myself accountable. It’s always so easy for me to start something, do it for a few days, and then let it fade away from my life. But creativity is an intrinsic part of who I am, a part that I have been allowing to fall to the wayside - and I don’t want that for myself.

I want days where I’m excited to do something, I want to use my brain in different ways, I want to work hard and see what that effort has been for. I’ve had too many days, weeks, and months where I look back and wonder what the point was of all that energy. After these 101 days (100 days to build a habit, plus one more to be sure), I’ll have a catalogue of creations. And I cannot wait.

This post is Day 2 and it’s about a topic that’s close to my heart: writing.

Language can be a stunning thing. If you watched the recent Celebrity Traitors series, you’ll have heard Stephen Fry’s gorgeous use of the English language. He speaks in poetry, using words that add rhythm and charm to sentences in a way that delicately dances around sounding pompous or forced. Take five minutes of your day to listen to his take on what makes us human. I found it mesmerising the first time I heard it several years ago, I find it mesmerising now.

That is where writing lifts me up. I can find a plethora of emotion within writing, regardless of the form it takes or whether I’m the author or not. Perhaps you’re reading a book that shuttles you off into a different world, processing a poem that understands you more than you yet understand it, or indulging in the warm embrace of a song that sends shivers down your spine (side note: isn’t it amazing how art has a physiological affect on us? It really is a part of us).

Ideas bubble and bounce through my fingertips in ways they simply cannot when they’re reverberating around in my cranium. This is true creatively and this is true emotionally. Writing is one of my most natural forms of expression, allowing me to release thoughts because they have found a home elsewhere.

In their place, more considered thoughts - or something entirely different - is given the space to surface. I can see them, I can understand them. I can also, to an extent, accept them. It becomes harder to deny something when it is displayed right in front of you in your own handwriting.

A notebook that I use on occasion to do some creative writing

The other side of that coin is trying to convince other people of something. I really enjoy the strategy of how to get other people on board with an idea. What does the other person believe? What do they want to achieve? What is of interest to them? And underlying all of these ‘whats’ is a whole bunch of ‘whys’, which ultimately leads you to how you’re going to go about conversing with that person through the page. Writing isn’t always the best way to go, but it is often a very considered and therefore impactful approach.

And there’s a craft to it. Writing something succinctly and captivatingly, adjusting your style to the audience, finding a way for it to slot in with whatever else it is you might be doing. I can’t say that I do it all the time - I’m not doing it here, for example - but getting it right is so satisfying.

A letter from my friend Noah - with my old address covered up because you have to be safe on the internet, kids

Lastly, letters. I wrote a blog once about time that celebrated the joy of doing things in the more inconvenient way every once in a while. With letters, you gift yourself and someone else the time to sit down, think about what parts of your life you want to share - knowing that by the time you receive the reply, your life will likely have changed in ways you couldn’t predict - and create something for the other person to savour.

I used to do it with my British grandparents. If I wanted my pocket money, I had to write a letter! Now, I have a friend where we write to each other every once in a blue moon. I am weeeell overdue with my reply, but I’d say moving countries is a pretty good excuse. Anyhow, instead of doing it for pocket money, I now do it for creativity.

We gift each other a poem, a picture, or whatever else and that is precious. One day I’ll be able to flick back through these letters, half a conversation spelled out over a number of years. Which seems to me just as purposeful as it is pointless.

And what good is life if we aren’t finding purpose in the pointlessness?