Writing has long been regarded as a fundamental human practice, a means of communication, preservation, and expression. Yet, beyond its practical uses, writing exists as a powerful and often overlooked art form. Like painting or music, it requires creativity, intention, and a careful balance of technique and imagination. Writers do not simply record ideas; they shape them, refine them, and present them in ways that evoke emotion, meaning, and connection. At the same time, writing is not limited to the visual act of reading words on a page. Through sound, environment, and especially imagination, it has the capacity to engage multiple senses, immersing both writer and reader in a fully realized experience. This raises an important question: how is writing considered an art form, and in what ways can it be understood as a multisensory experience? By examining the creative processes of writers, the historical development of written language, and the sensory dimensions of reading and storytelling, it becomes clear that writing is not only an art form, but one that uniquely bridges the gap between thought, sensation, and human connection.

 

What is art?

      But what is art? The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it as, “the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects.” Of course, there are certain medias and skills that immediately come to mind when thinking of art; painting, sculpting, music, photography, dance, theater. But there is so much more to art than this; art can be found naturally, not created by any one being. Think of the way the light filters in through the blinds on a spring morning—that’s art. Think of the way your mother’s hair tosses and turns and blows with the wind—that’s art. Think of your backyard from your childhood home, how the bugs used to buzz and the dirt would smear your cheeks—that’s art. Think of the way your hand fits with your lovers’, how your human bodies puzzle together exactly perfectly—that is art. Art can be about capturing these little drizzles of life, through whatever medium necessary. And I, the author, was able to convey this beauty to you, the reader, through writing: A form of art. 

Art is an individual experience, as well as a collective one, all at once. One must experience art through their own senses and perception, as no one else can help with this. You can bring a horse to water but you cannot make it drink; you may present beauty after beauty, but you cannot make them open their eyes, their ears, their heart. It is up to the individual to not just see, but rather witness, a piece of art for themselves. And even furthermore, it is up to them, and perhaps them alone, to take the time, to have the capacity to recognize it for what it is. What does this creation mean to them and them alone? This is the individualism of art. 

      But who painted that piece? Who sculpted that statue? Who composed that music? There is a collectiveness that comes with art. It had to come from within someone. There had to be a spark, an idea so grand and so consuming that the creator had no choice but to create. Each person is a mosaic of their life experiences—who they are is crafted up by their environment, specifically their communities within these environments. Every one who had ever met or interacted with Leonardo Da Vinci played a (perhaps insignificant, but still real) role in the creation of the Mona Lisa. Everyone that I have ever met played a role in me becoming who I am today, thus allowing me to pick and choose exactly which words to write and why. As for the audience, there's a likeness that’s born when having the privilege of witnessing something as raw as an artwork created by another. Creation unveils the inner workings of a person, strips them bare and splays them raw, for better or for worse. Whether it be a novel, an article, or a little blog post, it shows a little bit about themselves to those who may listen. And even after this nakedness, for them to still share it with the world is not only brave, but connectively human. 

Ultimately, writing embodies both the individual and collective nature of art in a uniquely powerful way. It is born from a writer’s personal experiences, perceptions, and imagination, yet it only fully comes to life when it is received, interpreted, and felt by a reader. Through carefully chosen words, writers are able to translate abstract emotions, fleeting moments, and sensory experiences into something that can be shared across time and space. In this way, writing is not just a reflection of art—it is an active participation in it, a medium that captures the human experience and offers it to others to witness, interpret, and feel for themselves.

​

Do You Feel Like an Artist When You Write? 

      Each author has their own personal method when it comes to writing. Some listen to music, some write in bed or in their office, some write late at night or early in the morning. Sharples (1999) explains different kinds of writers through terms such as ‘watercolourist’, ‘architect’, ‘bricklayer’, ‘sketcher’ or ‘oilpainter’. These different kinds of writers all exhibit varying habits, ranging from what medium they use to write (computer or paper), what part they start with (easiest or hardest), or what level of editing they deploy. A watercolourist may review more on screen, while an architect may prefer to review on a printout, etc. My point is that an author’s methodology is as unique as the piece they create. In this sense, writing feels inherently artistic; just as painters develop their own techniques and styles, writers cultivate personal processes that shape the final work.

      As for Brian Dixon, he needs a quiet space and complete zen to be able to write his upcoming book, “Before It’s Too Late; The Midlife Wake-up Call Every Man Needs”. In this book, he explores ideas of realignment with your ‘north star’; coming back to your passions after being asleep at the wheel for far too long. After graduating with a degree in journalism, Dixon spent the next 25 years meandering through life with jobs that did not fulfill him, people pleasing, and dealing with the loss of his ‘fire’. Eventually, he decided that enough was enough, and he came back to his passion, writing. 

“The stories are inside me and I need to get them out. I have things to say and I shape it just like how an artist would with tools. I feel like an artist in respect to that,” Dixon states. Dixon’s perspective reinforces the idea that writing can function as a form of artistic expression. When he compares shaping his stories to how an artist works with tools, he emphasizes that writing is not simply the act of putting words on a page but a process of crafting, revising, and forming meaning. Much like a painter chooses colors or a sculptor molds clay, a writer carefully selects language, tone, and structure in order to convey a story. “I want my story to resonate with readers. It is especially important to write the words in a certain way so I come off as a peer to my readers. I’m not writing about me, more just using my story as a push for them to recognize themselves in the words.” In this way, the writer becomes both a storyteller and a creator, transforming internal thoughts and experiences into something tangible for others to engage with; “I definitely feel like I create something unique that hasn’t been seen by the world yet. I took something out of thin air and made it real.” 

 

The History of Writing

      Writing, at least to me, is an innately human quality. We were always meant to write. It lived within our ancestors for so long in the form of storytelling. In fact, the oldest painting discovered is 45,500 years old, telling a story of a hunting scene with three pigs engaging in social activity (Griffith University, 2021). As a species, we continued to tell stories either by painting them on cave walls, passing down legends orally, or keeping track of the past through markings on the land or on our bodies. Tattoos, for example, are a form of story telling that developed individually across multiple cultures. As Lineberry states, “Ancient Siberian nomads, Indigenous Polynesians, Nubians, Native South Americans and Greeks all used tattoos—and for a variety of reasons: to protect from evil; declare love; signify status or religious beliefs; as adornments and even forms of punishment.” Storytelling is in our blood, literally written on our skin. Humans want to remember, and want to be remembered. 

      Thus, it's only natural that writing came into play around 3300 BCE, first as a system to keep track of transactions, and later evolved into written language (Srilata, 2025). As these early systems developed in regions such as Mesopotamia and Egypt, writing gradually shifted from purely practical record-keeping to a tool for preserving culture, belief, and narrative. Clay tablets written in cuneiform began recording myths, prayers, and royal histories, allowing stories that were once carried only by memory to exist independently of the storyteller. One of the earliest surviving works of literature, The Epic of Gilgamesh, written around 2100 BCE, demonstrates how writing had already become a medium for exploring human questions about mortality, friendship, and meaning (George, 2003). In this way, writing transformed storytelling: instead of disappearing when a speaker finished, stories could now travel across generations and civilizations, using the exact words as when it was first created. The written word allowed human imagination to become tangible.

      Over time, literature became increasingly central to cultural life. In ancient Greece, works such as Homer’s epics were first shared orally before being written down, marking a moment when oral storytelling traditions and written literature intersected (Goody, 1986). As writing systems spread and literacy expanded, written stories were no longer limited to priests or record-keepers but became an artistic practice in their own right. Poetry, drama, and philosophical texts emerged as writers began to experiment with language, not just as a tool for documentation, but as a way to explore emotion, morality, and the human condition. By the classical and medieval periods, creative writing had firmly taken center stage in many societies, shaping religious texts, epic poetry, and early novels that defined cultural identities.

      The importance of literature continued to grow alongside technological developments such as the printing press in the fifteenth century. Mass production of books allowed stories to circulate more widely than ever before, making literature accessible beyond elite institutions (Eisenstein, 1980). From that moment forward, writing became a powerful force of influence, having an effect on culture, politics, and collective memory. What began as markings used to track grain or trade had evolved into one of humanity’s most significant creative practices. Writing, once a practical innovation, became a space where imagination, history, and identity could all live together on the same page.

      However, there are undeniable struggles that come with being a writer that are important to address. Being a writer can be daunting, especially in today’s world. Available writing jobs have been on a steady decline, with the demand for freelance writing jobs having fallen by 30% within the first eight months of ChatGPT’s launch (Zhu, 2024). The balance between AI and human-created writing is still one that our society is trying to figure out. There are practical uses for AI in the writing industry, such as formatting citations or correcting grammatical errors, but using AI to create seems counter intuitive. AI is simply a regurgitation of everything that has already been made; the humanness to writing is that it is created from something new. This is good news, as writing cannot be replaced by AI; new texts must be written to a) continue to feed the algorithms, and b) to continue to feed the artistic human soul. 

 

What Makes Writing Different?

      Writing is strikingly different from other art forms. Fennell states that in writing, the student does not aim to become just like their master, unlike when learning piano or dance, for example. Sure, the writing student takes note from their instructor, listens to their advice, and implements suggestions, but in the grand scheme of mastery they do not try to adopt the same kind of tone as their master’s; they try to emulate rather than replicate. This may be partially because of a) instructing limitations, especially in modern times, and b) trying to replicate someone else's writing style can prove to be essentially impossible. 

The modern writing education consists of multiple instructors over a period of time (1st-12th grade, respectively). In the past, wealthy or high status students would oftentimes have only one instructor throughout their entire education (Duncan, 2023). While this can still be the case for certain other art forms, it is not as common now, especially for writing. This new construction of education does not allow for the adoption of a ‘master’s style’, as there is no consistent figurehead; as a child grows up throughout the years, they will have several teachers. However, this is not necessarily a bad thing, as the plethora of inputs may lead to a more unique and personalized writing style to bloom. Going back to the mosaic idea, each instructor may leave a student with one special something that they will carry with them in the rest of their academic writing career. 

      Moreover, even if one did have a steady mentor throughout their writing career, trying to replicate an individual's writing style is not only impossible, but also unethical. There is no true way to master what is in someone else's head, simply because you are not in it. Additionally, people are ever-changing, ever-evolving creatures who are not meant to stay in one place (being physical or metaphysical). Attempting to facsimile another’s writing style robs both parties of creative freedom; when authenticity is removed from the equation, liberation to express individualism, as well as the quality of the actual product, is significantly reduced or removed. 

 

Writing as a Multi-Sensoral Experience

      It can be argued that writing is primarily a visual experience, as reading words on a page is the conventional method to consume written media. However, especially in modern times, there has been significant exploration into the expansion of reading—how might the audience experience the story in a more immersive way? 

      I grew up with scratch and sniff children’s books, where I could smell different kinds of sweets and desserts from the page of a book. Now, this genre has expanded significantly, even including christmas scents (The Sweet Smell of Christmas by Patricia M Scarry), the smell of cities (New York Smells: N.Y.C.'s 1st Scratch & Sniff Guide By Caroline McKeldin), or even some less tasteful scents (Scratch & Sniff Book: Fart Book by Buddy & Barney). This is an early example of how writing can be a multi-sensoral experience, and one that has only been recently available.

      Audio can play a large role in both the creation and the consumption of a piece of writing. Many writers listen to music, white noise, or go to a coffee shop to be surrounded by chatter when they are in the midst of their creation process. Additionally, audiences can find themselves listening to music while they read, with some authors even providing specific playlists to further envelope the audience within the narrative. Audiobooks are another example of this, with different narration voices, sounds, and music all tied together into one listening experience. In each of these cases, sound enhances the emotional tone and atmosphere of a piece, allowing writing to extend beyond the visual and engage the listener on a deeper sensory level.

      Imagination is truly the epicenter of this multi-sensoral experience. As Dixon puts it, “A book that’s really well written and descriptive allows for you to get involved in a life that you otherwise wouldn’t experience. Writing can take someone away, put them in a different world where you can really taste those cookies, feel the cold blizzard wind, or smell the ocean breeze.” Through vivid description and careful language, writers can activate the reader’s senses even without any physical stimulus. A simple line describing warm chocolate chip cookies can make a reader imagine their sweetness, while a scene set in a snowstorm might cause them to almost feel the biting cold. In this way, the reader’s imagination acts as the bridge between words on a page and a full sensory experience; the writer’s imagination first creates the world, and the reader’s imagination then brings it to life. Humans experience reality through our senses, so when ‘visiting’ a new world within a book, it only makes sense that writing is a multi-sensoral experience.

 

Conclusion

      Writing, as explored throughout this piece, stands apart as one of the most expansive and multifaceted forms of art. It is not confined to a single medium, sense, or method; rather, it exists across disciplines, blending imagination, history, sound, and sensory experience into something uniquely human. Unlike other art forms that may rely on one primary mode of expression, writing is inherently multisectoral; it can be visual, auditory, tactile, and deeply imaginative all at once. This breadth is what allows writing to adapt, evolve, and remain relevant across time, cultures, and technologies.

      At the same time, writing is inseparable from human history. From cave paintings to oral storytelling, from cuneiform tablets to modern literature, the act of recording and sharing stories has always been central to what it means to be human. Writing preserves memory, identity, and culture in a way that transcends generations, making it not only an art form but a fundamental human practice. Its presence throughout history is not incidental—it is essential, embedded so deeply within us that it cannot be dismissed or replaced.

      Even in the face of rapidly advancing technology and the rise of artificial intelligence, writing remains undeniably human. While machines may assist or imitate, they cannot replicate the lived experiences, emotions, and individual perspectives that give writing its depth and authenticity. Art, in all its forms, is driven by the human need to create, to express, and to be understood. As long as humans feel, imagine, and seek connection, they will write. And in doing so, they will continue to prove that writing is not only an art form, but one of the most enduring and defining expressions of what it means to be human.