My new friend Cassandra over at Gee How Quaint posed a question that I’ve been asking myself a lot lately as well: where does the need to create come from? In an era where almost anything can be made for us by machines, why do we take the time and make the effort to do it ourselves? Or maybe I should say, why do we insist on creating things ourselves?

Creating is a way of expressing oneself, of showing one’s true colours to the world. Ever since I learned how to write, I’ve been writing: in my diary, short stories, poems and long letters to friends. Writing I always found the words I couldn’t find when I talked. When my pen moved over the paper, the words would come automatically  Language was my friend, my lover even. It never let me down.

Until I moved to Dublin. In the 18 months I’ve been living here, I’ve lost my connection with words. Speaking, hearing, writing and reading English almost 24/7 has estranged me from the subtleties of my own language; more and more often the Dutch words I’m looking for just won’t come to mind. And as English is not my mother tongue, though my knowledge and vocabulary are more than sufficient for my daily life, I’m not fluent enough to express nuances the way I used to be able to in Dutch. So I wrote less and less. For the first time in my life, language wouldn’t suffice to express myself. In a way, I’m happy I was ‘forced’ to try other forms of expression, because I’ve found new things I enjoy. I know I can go to the nearest shop and buy postcards or a scarf, but these days I prefer to make them myself. Creating things is about authenticity, about being true to your own spirit. When you make things you infuse them with something of yourself, of your personality, something that machines can’t do.

This is my story, feel free to share your own reasons to create!