The first story I ever wanted to write was the story of my family. I’ve always loved listening to stories, and the first ones I heard came from my parents, my grandparents and my mother’s godmother. I can’t say whether they were the ones who spontaneously shared their memories of their youth or whether I was the one who asked for them. Either way, they always fascinated me. They seemed to me like stories from a bygone era. Tales of friendship, of hardship mixed with joy, the small pleasures of life and, for the little girl I was at the time, of adventure.

I loved imagining my grandparents or my parents sleeping out in the open under an almond tree, camping on the beach for a whole week, stealing grapes and apricots from a neighbour’s garden, listening to radio soap operas at a neighbour’s house, and reading by the light of a kerosene lamp. The images that came to my mind as a little girl were romantic, and the fact that that way of life seemed lost to me gave me a tremendous urge to write about it.

I’ve always wanted to write stories, because listening to and reading stories has always made me dream. But today, I want to write different stories and pieces. I don’t just want to make people dream or take them on a journey through my writing; above all, I want to inspire. In writing, anything is possible. We can bring fantastical creatures such as dragons or werewolves to life, but we can also imagine better worlds. Right now, that is what drives me: the possibilities. I believe deeply in the capacity of each of us, individually and as a society, to change and improve ourselves, and my dream is to write stories and other texts that inspire us on that journey.

Writing is also the most natural way for me to express myself. When I write, I feel closer to myself; a sense of calm washes over me and soothes me. Ideas flow naturally, and it becomes easier to organise and understand how people and the world work. Reading has the same effect on me. Sometimes I reread a sentence several times, copy others down and let myself linger over them for a while. Reading teaches us to live better, to observe the behaviour of others, to experience their lives up close; and that helps us grow and want to be better people. I need that, and I like to share this way of being of mine.

This week I read a chapter from Wajdi Mouaward’s book “Jusqu’au bord de son ravid”. The chapter in question was about the verb ‘to see’, and one of the sentences that got me thinking was the following:

“Revelation is not, therefore, merely something one endures. It calls for action. (…) To act. To turn the verb ‘to see’ into an act of affirmation. Writing is, in a way, the affirmation of the verb ‘to see’.”

Wajdi Mouaward summed up this urge to write so well. The stories that exist and are born within me every day have come from oral stories, and perhaps one of these days I will finally begin to write that first story I’ve wanted to write for so long. I think the little girl in me would be happy.

Translated from Portuguese with DeepL.com (free version)