Any time someone asks the question “Why do you write?” I hear the following quote in my mind:
“I write because I must. It's not a choice or a pastime; it's an unyielding calling and my passion.”
― Elizabeth Reyes
I write because I must. If I don’t write, how will anyone else know these fantastically odd and incredibly charming people that populate my mind? If I don’t write, how will I keep my head from exploding? I imagine words as being paintbrushes with unlimited colors on their pallets, or an endless supply of clay. It thrills me to see worlds and peoples take shape under my fingers.
I like the feeling of my mind expanding when a new perspective shows itself. Or when a phrase I’ve heard a thousand times before (or never) sparks a new life in my brain. I admit I enjoy the romantic notion of sitting at a computer, a cup of tea steaming while the clickity clacking sounds of brilliance being unbound issue from my keyboard. Perhaps surprisingly, I will also admit to enjoying the pacing, agonizing and hair tearing of brilliance being a bit bashful (Which, let’s be honest, is usually more frequent than the former idyllic scenario).
Writing is a hundred different games I can play with myself. I like the solitary aspect of an activity that’s purpose is, in essence, to connect. I’m a bundle of contradictions and in writing I find a balance between them all.
I’m going to end this post with a rather long quote because I agree with each line and didn’t want to shorten it. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me why you write.
"I write to find strength.
I write to become the person that hides inside me.
I write to light the way through the darkness for others.
I write to be seen and heard.
I write to be near those I love.
I write by accident, promptings, purposefully and anywhere there is paper.
I write because my heart speaks a different language that someone needs to hear.
I write past the embarrassment of exposure.
I write because hypocrisy doesn’t need answers, rather it needs questions to heal.
I write myself out of nightmares.
I write because I am nostalgic, romantic and demand happy endings.
I write to remember.
I write knowing conversations don’t always take place.
I write because speaking can’t be reread.
I write to soothe a mind that races.
I write because you can play on the page like a child left alone in the sand.
I write because my emotions belong to the moon; high tide, low tide.
I write knowing I will fall on my words, but no one will say it was for very long.
I write because I want to paint the world the way I see love should be.
I write to provide a legacy.
I write to make sense out of senselessness.
I write knowing I will be killed by my own words, stabbed by critics, crucified by both misunderstanding and understanding.
I write for the haters, the lovers, the lonely, the brokenhearted and the dreamers.
I write because one day someone will tell me that my emotions were not a waste of time.
I write because God loves stories.
I write because one day I will be gone, but what I believed and felt will live on.”
― Shannon L. Alder
