“Why do I want to write?” In my experience words have more often deserted me than come when commanded, got me further into trouble instead out of it, and kept me perched at a desk rather than sprawled out on a couch, as is now the case.
So why would I want to pursue a path that relies foremostly upon words? The more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t honestly have a decent answer. I could say that I am a lover of words, which I am. I could say that I am a believer of dialogues, which I also am. But the truth is I just like it.
Nothing gives me a greater thrill than penning a truly fantastic line. There is something about bringing forth an abstract idea and slamming into onto paper, only to have it lifted again by a reader, which is indescribable. I love trying to describe the indescribable and not only for the end result, but for the actual process. The nerve-wracking struggle for articulation is a never ending challenge and triumph like none other. Words are the key to unlocking whole new worlds. Words give causes a voice. Words are what inspire and comfort, exhilarate and empower, while forging a safe personal haven within our very own beings. Learning how to express oneself and the world around us for anybody to see and interact with is an amazing resource, because it allows for an endless potential. Where can you go with writing? — Wherever you allow the words to take you. Whatever your mind can fathom you can be a part of, and make others a part of too.
So there it is, my answer to ‘why write?’ Because I like writing, love it even and more than anything want to devote my life to weaving words into sentences and inspiring others to do the same. It is a simple answer, I know, and although perhaps not the stuff of great fiction, it is a raw undecorated truth. And in an age bombarded by demands for reason and complicated logic, I am content with my answer.