I’ve been reading posts from other writers on their blogs. I’ve noticed a considerable difference between writers who have published a book or two, and those who are yet unpublished.
Those who are unpublished talk about the love of the words, the feeling of the craft, about how they feel like the universe goads them into its gentle embrace where it whispers the stories it wants them to tell the world.
The published put up web sites that say things like: The Official Page of John Writer. They also don’t write the mushy feeelings that the unpublished writer puts on their blogs. But they put more of the business aspect of it in their blogs.
It seems like the two need to come together a little — the pubbed and unpubbed. I am neither. I have a short story pubbed, but not a novel, which I want. And no, the universe did not tell me to write, and I don’t sit with a cat and a cup of coffee contemplating my future while looking into my fishtank. Blech, what drivel.
I have digressed extremely far. Sorry about that. (must be that damn universe.)
I write because I like to tell stories. Fun stories that will make you jump and yell, “YES!” or make your eyes tear up with sadness. My only goal is to get you to keep turning pages. Seriously. I have ideas on TONS of stories, and will write them all. Writing is fun. Telling stories is fun. Especially when you can build someone up and take them all the way to the tipping point, and then bitch-slap them back down. Gosh I love that stuff.
Why do I write? Because I do.