Most of the reasons that I write seem to revolve around my finances, my creative impulses, and even my physical and mental health. There’s one reason that’s probably the most basic, while also the hardest to explain. I write because it makes me happy.
It’s a much more complicated concept than it seems. When I’m writing, I feel as if I’m doing something useful. It doesn’t matter if I’m working on a piece that I’ll get paid for or something that will never be seen by anyone by me. There’s little difference between a passion project that I’m burning to put word count down on, or an essay or article that I’ve been hired to write. The feeling that I am creating something, contributing to something larger, remains.
Writing is also something that no one can take away from me. I can write in a program on my laptop, an app on my phone, or in a paper notebook. Sometimes I write in my head, putting together structure and ideas and dialog, going over them, and putting them down in some permanent format later. I can pour ideas and stories out verbally, to anyone willing to listen. That’s stringing words together to express something. That’s writing. That I can do it anywhere, under any circumstances, makes me happy.
What pleases me the most, though, is that writing allows me to assert myself. I’m an introvert, I’m shy, and I can be socially awkward — in person. In writing I can speak up and say whatever I want, and I can say it with confidence. It’s how, in spite of all of my quirks and foibles, I can interact with the world. That makes me happiest of all.
You can read more about Why I Write here.