Why do you write?

I wanted to be an artist. But God didn’t give the gift of hand-eye coordination. And to be honest I’m not entirely sure he granted me the gift of enchanting people with words but that’s the tool I have chosen to take up.

I write to say the things that I can not verbally communicate.

I write to teach myself patience. Each sentence must be formed one word at a time and each word letter by letter.

I write because I need attention. And as you are reading this you are granting me my wish.

I write on the conceited notion that I, through my words, may be able to help someone.

I write because I can, because I have the freedom to do so. It’s how I show myself. My words may be angry though I’ll never shout, sad without revealing one tear and happy without echoing my laughter.

As long as there are no rules against it I will write. I suppose even if there were I would still do it.

Why do you write?

Do you sit there at your computer simply to hear the clicking of your keyboard? Or is it deeper than that?

Are you so in love with the idea and task of creating that you can do it anywhere, like two lovers who feel no shame in expressing their love even on a train platform?

Do you do it to understand yourself—to explore your psyche in a way that no psychiatrist could begin to understand?

Perhaps you do it to take a wild uninhibited ride through your imagination.

Or maybe you do it because it works, because you really couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else. It’s part of your job, your lifestyle, who you’ve become.

Positive statement, ringing affirmation-- you are a writer.