Why Write?

I’ve been asked a few times over the years why I write.  To me, it’s a silly question.  But I answer as honestly as I can without waxing too philosophical.

I write because I enjoy it.  I’ve been writing stories since I could hold a pencil.  Writing has always been something I’ve enjoyed, and enjoyed for its sheer magic.  I write for no one but myself.  The written word gives me pleasure and feeds my soul.  If I tried to write for other people, my stories would come across hollow and soulless.  So I write the stories I have within me.  That’s the other reason I write–the stories are there, in my head, and they keep coming whether I write them down or not.  So I might as well write them down and keep the words to enjoy over and over again, rather than embrace the fleeting thoughts once and never again.  When I began writing, I never really thought about publishing.  My stories were just for me and my enjoyment.  I didn’t even share them with anyone else for years.  It wasn’t until maybe college that I really considered publishing and whether my stories would even be interesting to anyone but me.

So basically I write because I enjoy it.  I don’t do it for money or fame, I do it for love.  Sure, it would be lovely and amazing to sell lots of copies, and I would love for that to happen.  But even should I only sell two, I will still write.  Nothing and no one will stop me!


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