And, by writing, we remember how to fly. [Creative Award Impressions]

In the vast ocean of note where "writing" is the fundamental premise, encountering a work that sincerely faces the act of "writing" once again makes me feel like I should straighten my posture.
This essay by Miku Mayutan is also a piece that feels as if it has placed a 1-meter ruler against my back (as an aside, in elementary schools in the early Heisei era, there was actually guidance that went so far as to insert a 1-meter ruler into the backs of students who were slouching).

The only gift she says she ever received from her mother was the "habit of writing."
Did the book report she wrote in the lower grades finally ignite the embers of "worry for her daughter" that had been smoldering inside her mother?
Her mother handed a young Miku Mayutan a diary and told her to write in it every day.

The author's honesty in dutifully following that instruction is worthy of praise, and I also think her mother, who stuck with it—at least for a while—was a wonderful person.
Mentioning my own mother in this text would be off-topic. I will omit the details, but my mother is definitely not the kind of person who would do such a thing.
While we share the experience of being evaluated by our mothers as "strange children," she would only scold me, asking "Why can't you be normal?" without ever offering concrete support.
I don't know what Miku Mayutan would think, but to me, she felt like a very attractive, wonderful, and devoted mother.
And I felt a little envious.

Her mother's thoughts were surely conveyed to Miku Mayutan and have been passed down.
After all, she is still writing today.
She makes a living by writing.
No, even if she hadn't made it her job, she would have continued to write forever.
Because she has lived her life holding onto that childhood gift all this time.
A huge, huge gift that makes her say, "If I don't write, I'll die."

Even when struck down by the overwhelming talent of those around you, to take pride in what only you can do and to keep going.
How difficult that is.
Not to fight on the same field as a genius, but to cherish your own arena.
How much inner conflict must have occurred before reaching that conclusion.

I think many thoughts would come out if she spoke about it.
But she doesn't do that.
Because she knows that in her own field, she shines the brightest.
Because she is confident that no matter who the genius is, there is no room for them to enter.

Here is a woman who is incredibly cool, working with pride in her job.

When I am lost regarding my own "writing," I want to return here without fail.
I am very happy to have encountered an essay that makes me feel that way.

The title of this review was borrowed from this work.
This novel also chronicles how to face "writing."
Writing is taking oxygen deep into your lungs. It is letting yourself fly far away.

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