I write because any day without a pen in hand is a bad day.
I write to process my world and make sense of things.
I write because the physical act of moving a pen across paper is calming, centering, and releases a part of me that communicates no other way.
I write because not writing produces anxiety, stress, and agitation. Maybe it’s my form of Ritalin.
I write because, though I am a private person, I want to reveal glimpses inside my outer self and share deep thoughts I could never share verbally.
I write because I love to tell stories.
I write because, as far as callings/hobbies/obsessions go, it’s incredibly mobile and has very low cost.
I write because I enjoy language, metaphor, word play, and sentences that resonate.
I write because I can. Race, economic status, state of health, and occupation have no effect on whether I can string words together to form images and ideas.
I write because I’m a writer. It’s not just what I do. It’s who I am and how I live.