It was a simple question, asked by a co-worker: “How are the book sales coming?” I replied that based on royalties I wouldn’t be giving notice any time soon and then he asked, “why do you even bother to write?” I blew him off with something about how typing keeps my fingers flexible and changed the subject.
I could see no point in trying to explain the drive, the need to release the characters and scenarios that clutter up the brain, all screaming for attention until set down on paper.
A writer writes because he or she has no choice in the matter. Some people satisfy this need by keeping journals or diaries. Short snippets committed to the written form are all that they need to silence the voices. Others among us find that the characters, the scenes and plot devices only grow more complex as we give vent to them. We have no choice other than to follow them to some (hopefully) logical conclusion.
I write to entertain and inform, first myself and then anyone who is gracious (or daring) enough to pick up one of my books. I am personally entertained by the process of having a story unfold before me and informed by the research that must be done in order to give the story some basis in reality. It is my goal that the reader be entertained and informed by exposure to the material found between the covers.
And so, if my co-worker reads this blog he will have the answer that I might have given. A shorter version could be that I simply like to tell myself stories I’ve never heard before.
Thanks for reading.