What drives me to write?


I’ve often asked myself this question and I can’t come up with a definitive answer. Yes, I have a vivid imagination and a measure of talent that enables me to create worlds and characters – but that doesn’t tell me why I engage in what can be a thankless occupation.

Time after time I’ve sworn to knock writing on the head, but I can’t, I’m addicted. Without it, an already mundane life would be totally barren. There’d be no escape from the humdrum, nothing special to look forward to. Now you may say the above answers my question, but it doesn’t – not really. Why choose writing as a means to create, within my own head anyway, the freedom we all so long for? Why not learn to dance or skydive? They’re both far more active and exciting –ย  aren’t they?

Writing is a solitary occupation, but I’m never lonely, not while I can construct worlds of my own and create characters with whom I can “chat.” I know how that might sound, but hey, aren’t all writers a little crazy? ๐Ÿ˜€




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5 Responses to “What drives me to write?”

  1. Basically honey, we’re all obsessives! ๐Ÿ˜‰


  2. I know exactly what you mean about the escaping into your head from a very ordinary existence. I have got almost neurotic about ‘getting back to it’. I get up from table almost before husband’s finished eating, make sure the rest of them are quite clear about who’s turn it is to wash up, then I beat it back upstairs to the bureau. Husband envies me being so keen to get back to work, but it’s become like a craving. I can’t bear to hang around listening to the daft twitterings of my offspring, or their infernal music. I want to listen to what’s inside my head. Crazy? Maybe a bit, yes.


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