Why Do I Write?

And so the question was asked why do I write?

I have to say that I write to ease the torments of my mind and to vent my frustration at the world in general. There are voices in my head that scream out for someone to hear them. Sometimes even the wind changing directions will give me the idea for a story.

I have been writing since I was thirteen, or at least that is the earliest I can remember. I taught myself how to type with an old brother word-processing typewriter that I actually still have. The first story I remember writing was about a vampire killing everyone on the lost colony of Roanoke.

Then there followed really bad stories that were an embarrassment to go back and read. There was a story about a guy beating the devil in a game of three card Monte. A guy becoming possessed by his house (The House That Jack Rebuilt
) a'la Shining and the Haunting of Hill House. A variation of the Stephen King story Springheel Jack and a sequel to Christine.

The first big story of my own was called Beauty and the Beast: a different vampyr love story. It was about three teenagers in a love triangle. The girl, the vampire, and one of the seven people destined to fight vampires. It had some sparks of decency but wasn’t really good, but it was nearly three hundred pages. It was full of action and bad teen angst and sex. Well, I was a teenage boy and what do teenage boys think about.

The second big story was The Chronicles of Gatean. It was two hundred pages and the story was barely getting started. Its size scared me. I had a map of the kingdom, a history of races, kings, wars and all kind of good stuff. (I lost all my old stuff about two years ago.)

Then there came the biggest eclipse in my life, my former girlfriend Kristina. For eight years we were together and all she ever said to me was that I had no talent writing and should give it up to focus on a better job so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. She used to always tell me that no one liked me and that was why none of her friends ever came over. She was such the ray of sunshine. She broke up with me on our eighth anniversary with an engagement ring in my pocket. She was seeing my best friend, they got married, she gained like eighty pounds and he gave her the gift that keeps giving. That’s right it starts with an H. Do you like apples? How bout them apples?

It has taken me a long time to be able to write again. Like my cooking, I think everything I write tastes bad. I feel like whatever I am trying to get across fails. I try to write with the strongest emotions that I can. Sometimes I write a certain scene over and over until they bring me to the brink of tears. Then I am angry later when that emotion doesn’t come through. I want people to feel, to anguish, to cry, to laugh, to sympathize, to hate. I want it to be like Johnny Cash’s version of Hurt. If you can listen to it and not hear the pain and hurt in his voice then there is something wrong with you.

I am a product of my surroundings, a pop culture junkie. Music, movies, books, tv, quotes. I spread references to them in everything I write. I am a font of useless information. On my yahoo page I have listings of my top ten movies in various categories. From best overall, to worst, to best action, drama, foreign, comedy, musical, horror, action, and so on. If you think movies can't help with writing try Good Will Hunting, Crash, Million Dollar Baby, and any thing by Tarantino. It’s some of the most realistic conversations you’ll find.

My music tastes run the entire gamut. I listen to just about everything and everyone. If you think that music cant help your writing just listen to or read some of the lyric’s by Johnny Cash, Kris Kristopherson, Willie Nelson, Tommy Johnson, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Eminem, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Hank Williams and the list continues.

Of course the authors. Let us go old and come forward. Shelley, Stoker, Bradburry, Matheson, Sturgeon, Asimov, Hienlien, Poe, Hemmingway, Strieber, King, Crighton, That should be enough of the last name crowd. Try also, Lee Child, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Jeffery Deaver, Jim Butcher, Anne Bishop, Anne Rice, JK Rowling, Chris Poalini, Mo Hayder, John Ramsey Miller, S.E. Hinton, Chuck Palahniuk, Dan Brown, Steve Berry, James Patterson and John Connelly to name a few.

The biggest influence on my writting now is Chuck Palahniuk just because after reading his dark satire I thought to myself, By all the Gods, you can write like that and it’s okay. And thus was birthed, Perpetual Rage.

So now that I have rambled, I shall answer the question. Why do I write?

I write to soothe the savage beast, to give voice to my demons, to make it so the good guy doesn’t always win, the hero doesn’t always get the girl, to show that not everything is black and white- there are greys and not everyone lives to see the sunrise. I write as a catharsis for the pain in my life, past and present. I write to make you cry, to make you hate, to make you feel. Good, bad or indifferent.

I write without an outline until I need one.
I write make believe until some auto-biography is needed.
I write what I want until the character tells me differently.
I write because if I didn’t I would go mad.
I write because if I didn’t I would rage.
I write because if I didn’t I would cry.
I write because the voices have something to say and I can’t argue with them anymore.