Over the course of my lifetime very little has gone according to plan. It would disappointed my teenage self to learn that I am not a rich and famous comic book artist. I do not own the world’s largest collection of paperback science fiction novels, which I have read — twice. In a perfect life I wouldn’t have health issues. People would be a lot nicer to each other, and the world would be a much better place than it is at the moment. I have no control over those things. What I do have control over are the things that I create. I write because I’m a control freak.
Not that I would go back and change anything, even if that were possible. The events of my splintered and salty life led me to Katie, and to Finland, and to writing for a living. What I need, and what I want, are things that my teenage self couldn’t have envisioned. The unexpected twists and turns have taught me valuable lessons. I wouldn’t have encountered so much wonder if things had gone according to plan. It’s been a worthy adventure.
Sometimes, though, you need a safe haven. A space to process your thoughts, to unpack your emotions and get your head around things. A process whereby you can make things a little brighter, or make certain events suck less. That’s what writing is for me. Writing is a form of control, whether I put it into fiction or essays or blog posts. It can release it to the world, or keep it to myself and let it be my own private sanctuary. Writing is something I can do where there is nothing to do. It’s that corner of my imagination where things will always go the way I want them too. That’s magic.
You can read more about Why I Write here.