Why do you write?
It’s a simple question asked to about every writer that lives. Curiously enough, people want to know what prompted the need to sit in front of a computer (or by hand) and hide away from friends, family and outdoor fun – for many hours at a time.
When asked, the same answer tends to arise, “Because I have too.”
I thought about this a lot the other night, as a stiff neck inhibited me from writing, and I have to agree with all those other writer’s out there. I write, in part, because I have too. That said, as I explored deeper I found an excess amount of other reasons, and I’m adding the following statement to clarify:
“I write because, buried deep inside my heart and brain, are the adventures I have always wanted to go on. I write because, while I find comfort in the words written by so many others (whom I adore) there are still a very large assortment of characters causing a ruckus in my head, and I have to release them to live among us. I write because words haunt me, whether I am sitting pen in hand, or showering, washing clothing, cooking, shopping, paying bills, or playing with my son, they wait to spring themselves on me.”
This is why I’m here, and I hope it goes to a place where I can share with the world all of those words that are lying in wait, but even if that never happens… I will write.
Because, as it would have it, all those other authors hit the nail on the head – because I have too.
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