Why Do I Write?

It is not easy to explain why I write.  Perhaps because of the fundamental conflict I have with the very question.  I am only just beginning to write, and as of yet, not much has been created.  Maybe it would be better for me to say why I want so much to write and write well.

I live in a world where nothing very exciting happens.  Currently, I share the air I breathe with cows and swine and a metric ton of grasshoppers dining on wheat less than a mile from my home.  Perhaps to some that is inspiring and beautiful and natural.  Not me.  I enjoy camping in the wild and staring at the stars and contemplating the thoughts of the moon as much as any philosopher, but the fact is at the end of the day, I would prefer to come home to a soft bed in a climate controlled environment.  I am more creative when I am at peace with my surroundings, and right now, I am not at peace.

I am finding, however, that I can step out from my world and create a new environment for my mind to explore.  I can find my zone and put the physical world on hold, forsaking it for the freedom of thought.  I can create my own societies, make my own rules, develop my own stories, fall in love with my heroes, and guiltlessly despise my enemies.  I can create what I need and in that creation, find a release and a home that I can’t find in my current circumstances.

I get a rush when I write something inspirational and moving.  I absolutely love coming up with new descriptions for day-old things.  I enjoy the rush of possibilities as I examine things from every angle.  I appreciate the ability to put the laws of the universe on hold and just … explore.  I feel like a child again in many ways, but this time, I have the vocabulary and maturity to glean from to really express myself the way I always wanted.  Clearly there are some things I can’t express, but I am much better able to do so now than before and in another twenty or thirty years I will have even more time and knowledge to call upon.

I want to write for me, primarily for the creativity involved.  I also want to write because I feel it is something I can succeed at unequivocally.  In a world where everything is cut and tailored and measured and graded, creativity is unbound.  You can’t put a score on it.  What is beautiful for one person is atrocious for another, and the circle is limitless in this regard.  I can make something beautiful for me and be proud of what I accomplished without fear of a score.  And perhaps as I pursue that goal, someone else might find something beautiful in what I’ve made.