My sister asked and so I’m answering.
Why do I write?
I write because it makes me feel good. Doy. Right?
OK. Maybe that’s a tad simplistic, let me see if I can delve a little deeper.
In the midsts of days where all I do is answer to people’s needs it feels good to create something new rather than just responding to something required of me. My writing is the only thing that is just me, just mine.
It comforts me to know that thirty people could be given a writing assignment and each and every one of those writers would write something completely different and original. People have told me they like my “voice.” I have a voice. It’s all mine. And when I write I feel like I am finally using it. I don’t mean the mommy voice that keeps the house running smoothly. I mean the voice I use to express my thoughts, my ideas, and all the stories constantly running through my head.
Some days my job is so debilitating that I need to create to prove to the world that I am alive, that I have a brain, and that I can use it. But writing goes way beyond that. At all times I need to create to prove to myself that I still exist as myself and not just in relation to the people in my life. I am a wife, a mother, a friend, a daughter, a sister, and a little worker bee. But I am also a writer. I am me. Writing is the one thing that I do just for me. It benefits no one but myself. I allows me to stay strong and not let myself be swept away by the day to dayness of life.