Why do I write?

The question that is almost as deep as asking what is our purpose in life?

Some might say, “Easy! I write because [insert some long speech here].”

I’d like to think that as easy as that question is, it’s hard at the same time. I don’t often ask myself this question but when I do, I am rather puzzled at how deep the question really goes.

Honestly, I write for myself. Most would answer that way.

I write to please me and only me — and if along the way I pick up one or two fans then that is wonderful. But writing is as much an escape as a car is for a robber. Cliche? Very much so but it’s true.

I found myself asking this question and wondering why?

I would like to believe that the most prolific writers were also the most troubled souls: whether they were prisoners of the egregious social rules of their day, whether they were abused physically and emotionally throughout the arduous journey known as life, or if obstacles constantly sought to stumble them as much as possible — whatever the issue, a troubled soul…pain of any sorts…can bring out the best in us artistically. That’s just something that I believe.

I write because I, too, am a troubled soul. Behind a smile that is essentially fallacious by nature, and ringing in the lowest frequency of a high-pitched laughter when in the company of my dearest friends, freckled in my eyes that scream out for help  — the little human clawing at my cornea’s to get out — is someone who is known by but a few beings. The aggressive nature I possess is a cry for help because I know of no other way to leave better clues behind. That aggressiveness usually comes off as defensive, edgy, moody, and all of those attempts are as futile as bread crumbs sprinkled on the ground as a way to get back home. But home will never be found: so I write.

This is who I am and who I need to learn to channel better when writing.

It seems I write to escape but that word, escape, holds a meaning deeper than anyone can imagine.

“I am not a great artist, but I have always felt impelled to write.”

-Stephen King

Impelled. Compelled. Obligated.

It’s all the same…

Why do I write?

I write to ease the itch for the only form of therapy I know that works.

Why do we write?

For the demon inside of us that scratches at the walls of our inner skin, the membrane, wanting to get the story idea out. Happy, sad, angry, vengeful — whatever emotion the story may possess, we just need to get it out.

We write, ultimately, for ourselves.

Or, for most, I wish to believe that.

2 Responses to “Why do I write?”
  1. S.C. Parris says:

    Agreed. All of this. Just. Agreed.

  2. Writing Jobs says:

    That was another excellent post today. You make it look so easy. Thanks so much for sharing. I really enjoyed reading it very much. Have a wonderful day!

    Enjoy writing? Join Us Today –

    Writers Wanted

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