Why do I Write?

Writing is a journey, not a destination.  If you think about it, the author spends much more time brainstorming, researching, and writing than it takes to sit down and read the finished work. But it’s not just a matter of brainstorming, researching, and writing—it is so much more than those intellectual aspects of the journey. A journey starts somewhere. What makes an author want to embark on this writing journey? Before all of the brainstorming, before all of the researching and writing, there’s a spark—and when that spark takes hold, it becomes a flame, and then a fire—passion ignites and there is no holding it back. The only way to feed the fire—to feed the passion—is to move forward—to learn, and grow, and change.

I absolutely love that journey. It’s a creative process born of a burning desire—a driving force that, for me, starts with an idea, a concept that captures my attention and my imagination so completely that it becomes a part of me. It speaks to my soul and screams to be heard, to become a living, breathing entity—an entity that will stop at nothing short of immortality. Why it chooses me as its vessel, I wouldn’t even presume to question, but I believe that I was created to create—and that’s really at the heart of it all, and all that truly matters.

I open my mind and my heart to this tiny little spark yearning to be free; and I breathe life into it. It grows inside my soul and becomes my child, and we begin a relationship that builds through time spent together filled with give and take self-disclosures. It reveals a little about itself, and I reveal a little about myself. And as we get to know each other, our love grows in intensity and passion, and I realize that there is a purpose behind it all. A purpose filled with meaning—a purpose that needs its voice to be heard. That voice calls out to me over and over again as I write. And just like any child, this child longs for independence. It wants the opportunity to find its way in the world—to make a difference.

I breathe life into it with my pen, setting it to paper—and when my child is fully grown, finally cushion it between the covers of a book; and that life becomes immortal. It has fulfilled its destiny. Or has it?

The journey doesn’t end there.  Through the pages of that book, that entity moves forward into the world, spreading seeds—weaving its way into the hearts and minds of those individuals who choose to embrace it. 

It meets those individuals wherever they happen to be on their own personal life journey.  And through their perspective, it gains new meaning—a new spark of life. It speaks to them and moves them. It asks them to dig deep within themselves—to search their souls, search their minds, search their hearts—to learn, to grow, to change. It begs a resting place where it can continue to live and breathe and bring positive change into their lives and into the world.

Yes, this living breathing entity—this book—asks a lot from the reader, but it gives so much more in return. It brings a message, it offers clarity, it builds understanding, it engages and begins a relationship. And as it builds a relationship with its readers, it provides an escape from the daily grind—a grind that often makes them forget to breathe, relax, and find the joy in life. So many gifts it has to bestow on those who take the time to not only allow it to speak to them, but to become its friend—to begin a relationship that never ends.

My mother, an avid reader, the person most influential in my life with regard to creativity, resourcefulness, and personal enrichment, told me that a good book is like a friend. She enjoys picking it up again, perhaps even years later, to reread it. I can relate to that. My perspective on that concept is that picking up the book and rereading it is all it takes to rekindle the spark of friendship—to reawaken and reignite the emotional connection—to touch base with how far I’ve come, to see if there are new morsels to discover, now that time and life experiences have shaped and molded me. The meaning I found within the pages of that book as I searched my own heart and soul in response to the questions it evoked is still a part of me. What more might I uncover as I rekindle the flame of that friendship?

Why do I write? I write to explore. I write to discover. I write to feed a passion. I write to give a concept a voice. I write out of a sense of urgency—an obsession to launch that voice into the world because it has a message. It could bring a message of hope. It could bring a message of warning. It could have a myriad reasons to desire to be set free in the world; but all of its reasons add up to one thing—a purpose.

Writing is passion with a purpose.