Ink Spots on the Sand
BY CEREN TURAN (CS/IV)
Once again, we can hear the final exams knocking on our doors. But since they're already bothering us enough, I'm not going to reflect on that in more detail. This being my last article for the semester, I wanted to share the journey I've experienced in the last year, a joyful ride that started with me deciding to be a resident of this corner of the paper. Although my position at Bilkent News may seem like nothing more than writer of a few articles that I share with you every other week, it has a much greater significance for me: this column made me start seeing writing as a possible and also a very satisfying career choice. So, at this point, at the risk of repeating what my upstairs neighbor Melek mentioned in her piece a couple of weeks ago explaining why she writes, I would like to focus on why I write and what it means to me.
"For me, the writing process always starts with an idea that pops into my head. It's always the same. Whenever I have an idea, I pause for a while and start staring into the void with a blank expression on my face. I start thinking, as if I consisted only of my soul and, not being attached to a body, was free to wander around. It is almost as if I didn't exist and there was nothing around me -- only my thoughts.
That one little idea then turns into words, then sentences, until I realize that I can't keep it all in my mind. I search for a pen and paper and try to take notes, hoping that the key words will be enough to remind me of the path I've found to get out of the maze in my mind. At the beginning, I never write full sentences. Because whenever I try, that brilliant idea of mine gets stuck at the tip of my pen. My lips are not talented enough to spill out the words as my mind continues to spin them like a spider spins its web, nor will my fingers be fast enough to type them. I am doomed to live with the presence of the prisoners in my head, and with their endless screams, begging me to set them free. When I'm not sleeping, I always hear their cries. It's when I can't take it anymore that I decide to write. Knowing that I will fail in my efforts, but also that the acknowledgement of that fact is no reason to stop trying: letting them die is treachery. I have to try, and in the worst case let them die in the attempt."
Coming across this description that I had noted down a few months ago, about how the writing process works for me, I realized that I still feel exactly the same about it. The idea of "writing because there is no other way," as I expressed it in an earlier column, is a quite well-known and even a clichéd one. So I tried to find some other reason that was more directly related to me than was a generally used statement, and I realized that writers write because they know the value of their opinions and feel that they are worth being protected. I feel close to this idea, mostly because of the writing process I've described above. I'm not suggesting that the ideas of writers are more valuable than those of others, but only that the former are more aware of their ideas' worth and therefore less likely to let them go without being expressed.
This self-consciousness -- the state of seeing oneself as one truly is -- has had a positive effect on my life this year. Not only concerning issues related to writing but even in my academic life and personal relationships, I feel like I know myself better. In the moments when I get lost in the hustle and bustle of lectures and exams and my still-not-planned future, which will be present in a couple of months, I find peace in the idea that no matter what else I may decide to do, I will keep writing. And that is sometimes all the certainty one can get from life.
I wish you all a very happy and relaxing summer, and look forward to seeing you again next semester!