I write because if I don’t write, I will explode or fade away into less than I was called to be or become even more twisted and bent than my choices and circumstances have already made me.
I write because it is a necessity that I capture these fleeting thoughts that beguile and befuddle and amuse and amaze and confound me before they escape like butterflies upon the wind.
I write because it is one way that I make money (yes, I am a freelance writer with paid clients).
I write because it allows me to speak my voice in ways that will survive long after I am gone and the echoes of any sounds I made have long since faded into the background vibrations of the universe.
I write in order to understand the things that are half-formed, inchoate, struggling upward to the light of reason and the thrashing of emotions and the heat of life — the possible Truths that will not give me peace unless I let them out and give them a home on the page.
I write because it is a way to reach out from my solitude to find another living being and to pour a few drops of my soul into theirs.
I write to share what I have learned through experience and research and thought and logic and intuition about the slices of the world which I have encountered.
I write to help others, to call attention to injustice and to salute those who showed courage or understanding or kindness or love, especially in the face of adversity.
I write because I am a Writer and I MUST WRITE.
This post was based on Day 1 of the Writing101 Class from Blogging University.