I don’t often get asked why I write as people seem to be more curious about how. This isn’t a query regarding methodology or anything, they’re not looking for a pen or pencil, typewriter or keyboard kind of response, moreso a ‘where on earth do you find the time?’ That’s a fair question, but I think why is much better.
*insert needlessly melodramatic and intense lean forward, hand on chin, probably wearing a beret and looking like a twat moment here*
“I write because I have to”
(yeah, I definitely set myself to dickhead there, but bear with me)
My mind is like a bag of cats on nitrous oxide who are completely aware there’s a brick in the bottom and possibly a near future that involves water and isn’t very long. Even my intrusive thoughts have intrusive thoughts. And I don’t say this lightly. My wife tells me I overthink things other people don’t even think about. Although I should point out this came from a lovely moment of kindness … talking to the kids … “Your dad is the most fair man there is. He overthinks things I don’t even think of”. She’s the Chilli to my Bandit. Anyway, I just assumed everyone’s heads are this busy. As it turns out… some people don’t even have an inner monologue!
Mental. I have about four. And they’re all set to 11.
But I can drown it out. There are ways.
There’s the not-so-healthy mind-numbing scrolling through social media, there’s the definitely-not-so-healthy partaking of ample amounts of booze, there’s the actually-healthy-but-I’m-too-fucking-lazy god-awful exercise, and then there’s stories.
When I get into a story it’s damn near all I can focus on. I can dedicate myself to it… and yes, become slightly obsessed with it. But shaping a story, shaping characters, watching them grow and do things I didn’t expect, even though I’m supposed to be in charge… that’s magic. And then the rare occasion of eliciting a response from a reader… that’s an extra special kind of magic right there.
A lady wrote me a beautiful message this time last year complaining about a character I’d killed. Steve. (Spoilers, sorry). It upset her. The email was lovely. She was lovely. But what utter magic to have written something that can make people feel… to cry, laugh, get angry, scared, a little bit nervous about the kind of man they’ve married and got two kids with 🤣
When I’m writing, even the intrusive thoughts stop squabbling for a bit and pitch in with ideas.
So, how I write is whenever I can, wherever I can, on my laptop or in my notebook.
But why I write is because I have to.
It gives me an amazing sense of well-being, peace, and fulfillment. And there is something utterly magic about creating a story that didn’t exist before. It’s even more magic if those stories get shared… but that’s not the be all and end all. I have five complete novels and two novellas that haven’t been published or signed, and maybe they never will… but writing them was a dream. And so I’ll keep writing.
Okay, maybe it’s not because I have to… maybe that’s going too far… but it is healthier than falling down an angry rabbit hole watching tiktok videos of Karens arguing with the police.
If I write about the angry Karens… well, I can set the barghests and demons on them.
😁
Thanks for reading.
If you’re a writer, I’d love to know why.
Cheers,