Today is the National Day on Writing. My first thought was, sadly, cynical, thinking, “What clown came up with that idea?” Then I thought about it a little more. It’s actually cool, people on Facebook and Twitter are writing the reasons they write, and it started me thinking, “Why do I write?” I’ve been writing since I was seven: novels, short stories, poems, everything I could.
It was a passion I could never ignore. Even when I was discouraged, and my words were over-analyzed, I still wrote. It always seemed to me that there was a frenzy of ideas in my mind, and the only way to distill the ideas that were good from those that were horrible was to write. The only way I came to find my own voice was to write. I read before I wrote, and I had always been experimental with my voice. I write because of the things I have to say, the itch in my fingers won’t stop until I say my piece. I write because I don’t know how to not write.
I write because I have to.