why i write

Someone asked me today why I write.

I write because I have to. Writing keeps me sane, clears my mind of all the muck that threatens to crowd out peace and helps me to see the world better through my own eyes. When I write I find something that no amount of looking ever seems to reveal to me. Writing is an escape, a vehicle, my medicine, even a form of therapy.

I write because I have to. Not that writing is a chore or a sentence. It's not burdensome in the traditional sense, though I do find that if I don't make time for it, it doesn't happen. It is work, but it's a joyful kind of work, an adventure, an exploration into myself and out of myself at the same time. Writing happens on the frontier of my mind.

I write because I have to. Like Jeremiah, there is a fire in my bones, an itching inside of me that I cannot scratch. Something wants out and the pen and paper (or, in this case, keyboard and world wide web) serve as the means of exorcism. The need to write is a beautiful curse, a cumbersome blessing.

I write because I cannot imagine not writing.

Like so many writers, yeah, I hope to be published some day. I hope that my writing will positively impact the people who read it. I write thinking in the back of my mind that it would be cool to write for a living. But I don't write for you or for money or fame or even for the noble endeavor of making the world a better place. I write because I have to.

And I'll be honest with you: for me, that's the only real reason to write.