I’m a Writer, I Have My Reasons
Updated: Oct 9, 2020
For as long as I could remember, l enjoyed English class more than most people but that's probably because it introduced me to oral stories, mythology, and that reading means other people stop speaking- at least while there's a book in front of my face.
The first short story I wrote was in eighth grade.
I don't remember what it was about but I do know it was essentially a fanfic version of something I read in chicken soup for the teenage soul that year.
I think a glance at my bookshelves give will give away some reasons why I write. '
I covet stories.
It probably comes from my innate need to know as much as possible and having learned young that anything worth knowing is hidden away in pages and a persons’ story reveals far more about them than they think.
I started reading at an early age and it was never lost on me that the characters I read — and dominated the shelves and even the ones I love to this day — never looked like me. Which means I learned early on to disassociate myself from characters when it came to how they looked and were described.
Basically learning to ignore that the characters were all white, blonde, and blue eyed or the rare mix of pale and dark haired and instead, I focused on the story telling and the world the author intended me to be brought into, though not really intended to be a part of.
I’m not a writer who always knew they were meant to write.
To be real, being a writer seemed a lot like a luxury career for people with free time on their hands. It wasn't a "real" job because it’s never been one that guaranteed success.
There are a lot of reasons I write but because I want it to make me rich isn’t actually at the top of the list.
Writing is a spiritual practice.
It‘s a trip to a world Within as much as it’s a fantastical trip to a made up land.
Words trandsend time and interconnect people across history.
Stories are retellings of truths we need and can’t all expierence first hand.
They are what bridge the gap between generations and all that’s left when the dust settles.
Stories are immortal.
How can I resist the call to be apart of that?
So, I don’t.
Someone somewhere once said, “I write because there are voices in me that cease to be still.”
Thats as close as I can get to summing it up.