Why Do I Write?
This question has been asked a long time by a lot of people and answered in various way by a lot of people. Writers ask it of themselves all the time. Why do I write?
Why do I write?
It's a simple question. Why? Why make up stories? Why write them down? Why try to get published facing rejection, poverty, loss of dreams, etc?
Why do I write?
It's not an easy choice to make, choosing to write, showing people what you've written. I mean, creating something is hard enough, but when you put words to paper, you don't always know if people will like what they've read, let alone understand the meaning behind what you've written. I always feel anxiety when I write a story down, just a chapter or two and I give it to someone else to read. My heart stops as I hand it over and then it starts racing.
As the person reads it, I feel naked. I created that story. That story is part of me. Now I'm giving my story, my imagination to someone else... and I know. I know they'll judge it. They'll decide if it's any good. The end result being that they'll decide if I'm any good.
Am I any good? Am I worth my thoughts, imagination, creativity? Do I have worth?
It all comes down to whether or not they've liked what I've written.
If they like it, I'm over the moon. Yes! They liked it! Yes! They got it! I'm worth something! I'm worth the time and effort I put into those chapters! VICTORY!
If they didn't... what happened? Where did I go wrong? Can I fix it? Is it something that needs fixing?
Why would anyone want to go through that emotional roller coaster? Why would anyone put themselves on the line like that?
Why do I write?
It's simple. I don't write always because I want to. I do it because I have to. There are these stories that race through my head at all times. Characters that want to break out and show me the lives they lead. I have to write because of Porfirio. I have to write because of the McGills. I have to write because a person can't carry a world around in their head and interact with the real world normally unless that extra, nonexistent world has an outlet. I don't always write because I want to, but I always write because I must.
However, it's also complicated. I write because I do want to write. I want to see the look on people's faces. The look that they say I get when I've read a really good book and I'm absorbed in that book's world. I want to see someone absorbed in my world I want them to know the characters the way I know them, see the Lilac Cafe in their mind's eye and feel the love I feel for them. I want people to join me in that world. They should have the McGills as their family! They should experience magic the way my characters do!
Because then, people are sharing something with me even if they live hundreds of miles away. Even if they grew up in a nuclear family with mom, dad, and 1.5 siblings, they'll know my mind because they've read my book and they'll know my experience. And that weird kid who feels like he or she doesn't belong will read my words and know that there's someone somewhere out there who went through similar feelings so that weird kid isn't alone.
I want that. I want my books to be there for people the way Harry Potter and Discworld have been there for me. When things get tough, really tough, I reread the Harry Potter series as a sort of band-aid or pillow. When my Grandma Bonnie died, I listened to the Discword series on audiobook and asked everyone, "Where's my cow?" When my grandpa died of leukemia, I was listening to the audiobook of Harry Potter and reading the book when I wasn't driving around. When I lost my funeral director job in Connecticut, I was just finishing Chuck Palahniuck's Lullaby. When I was considering giving up my dreams of being a funeral director to find a more fulfilling path, I was reading Chuck Palahniuck's Rant.
I love books. I love the worlds of other authors. Of course I'd want to add my world to theirs so that someday I can got to the bookstore and located after Piers Anthony, before Alexandre Dumas, there will be a book there written by Hanorah Campbell or H.R. Campbell and people will enjoy my world as much as they enjoy everyone else's worlds.
Why do I write?
Because I can't imagine doing anything else when I'm fifty with grand-kids or ninety and living in a nursing home. Hell, I'm sure my gravestone will read:
Hanorah Rose Campbell (or spouse's last name)
8/7/1988-8/8/2088
She wrote.
Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but you get the picture, but I'm pretty sure you understand by this point. I write because it's what I do.
Why do I write?
It's a simple question. Why? Why make up stories? Why write them down? Why try to get published facing rejection, poverty, loss of dreams, etc?
Why do I write?
It's not an easy choice to make, choosing to write, showing people what you've written. I mean, creating something is hard enough, but when you put words to paper, you don't always know if people will like what they've read, let alone understand the meaning behind what you've written. I always feel anxiety when I write a story down, just a chapter or two and I give it to someone else to read. My heart stops as I hand it over and then it starts racing.
As the person reads it, I feel naked. I created that story. That story is part of me. Now I'm giving my story, my imagination to someone else... and I know. I know they'll judge it. They'll decide if it's any good. The end result being that they'll decide if I'm any good.
Am I any good? Am I worth my thoughts, imagination, creativity? Do I have worth?
It all comes down to whether or not they've liked what I've written.
If they like it, I'm over the moon. Yes! They liked it! Yes! They got it! I'm worth something! I'm worth the time and effort I put into those chapters! VICTORY!
If they didn't... what happened? Where did I go wrong? Can I fix it? Is it something that needs fixing?
Why would anyone want to go through that emotional roller coaster? Why would anyone put themselves on the line like that?
Why do I write?
It's simple. I don't write always because I want to. I do it because I have to. There are these stories that race through my head at all times. Characters that want to break out and show me the lives they lead. I have to write because of Porfirio. I have to write because of the McGills. I have to write because a person can't carry a world around in their head and interact with the real world normally unless that extra, nonexistent world has an outlet. I don't always write because I want to, but I always write because I must.
However, it's also complicated. I write because I do want to write. I want to see the look on people's faces. The look that they say I get when I've read a really good book and I'm absorbed in that book's world. I want to see someone absorbed in my world I want them to know the characters the way I know them, see the Lilac Cafe in their mind's eye and feel the love I feel for them. I want people to join me in that world. They should have the McGills as their family! They should experience magic the way my characters do!
Because then, people are sharing something with me even if they live hundreds of miles away. Even if they grew up in a nuclear family with mom, dad, and 1.5 siblings, they'll know my mind because they've read my book and they'll know my experience. And that weird kid who feels like he or she doesn't belong will read my words and know that there's someone somewhere out there who went through similar feelings so that weird kid isn't alone.
I want that. I want my books to be there for people the way Harry Potter and Discworld have been there for me. When things get tough, really tough, I reread the Harry Potter series as a sort of band-aid or pillow. When my Grandma Bonnie died, I listened to the Discword series on audiobook and asked everyone, "Where's my cow?" When my grandpa died of leukemia, I was listening to the audiobook of Harry Potter and reading the book when I wasn't driving around. When I lost my funeral director job in Connecticut, I was just finishing Chuck Palahniuck's Lullaby. When I was considering giving up my dreams of being a funeral director to find a more fulfilling path, I was reading Chuck Palahniuck's Rant.
I love books. I love the worlds of other authors. Of course I'd want to add my world to theirs so that someday I can got to the bookstore and located after Piers Anthony, before Alexandre Dumas, there will be a book there written by Hanorah Campbell or H.R. Campbell and people will enjoy my world as much as they enjoy everyone else's worlds.
Why do I write?
Because I can't imagine doing anything else when I'm fifty with grand-kids or ninety and living in a nursing home. Hell, I'm sure my gravestone will read:
Hanorah Rose Campbell (or spouse's last name)
8/7/1988-8/8/2088
She wrote.
Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but you get the picture, but I'm pretty sure you understand by this point. I write because it's what I do.
H.R. Campbell, I like it. I always love your story times Al!
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