Why I Write

I don’t know why I write. I know it relieves pressure, keeps me sane.

I know I write because I enjoy the sense of a beautiful story coming together, to form characters I could shake hands with, and whose company I’d enjoy.

I write because I love the thrill, the wonder of a world within pages where soaring feelings of fear, sorrow, gladness, and even joy can be felt, feelings often unfelt in the real world.

Truth concentrated, I guess.

Finally I think I write because at my centre, I have a conviction, a surety that it’s worthwhile – that I’m not just spinning tall tales, or fun entertainment to last for an evening. But that I’m telling stories like the great movies and books I watched, from Who Framed Roger Rabbit to┬áThe Lord of the Rings. Great human tales told in metaphor.

Unpack them for yourself, and if you have a blast while doing so, all the better.

Why do you write?

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