Why do I write?
It’s a thankless job. Hours spent in front of a computer screen with little to show for it other than rows of letters and words that may or may not one day tell a story. Family and friends unsure why you’d even want to do that.
Honestly, I don’t know why I write. I wrote my first novella at the age of 12 (and yes, it was as bad as you’re imagining), and I have been writing off and on for over 25 years since.
I am a writer. I write all the time. I can’t count the number of words I’ve put to a page and then hidden in a folder. No, I am not a published writer. Maybe that will change, and maybe it won’t, but the past 25 years have taught me that I will continue to write whether or not I ever publish a book.
If you’re a writer, you know what I mean. The need to put words to a page despite a full time career, spouse, and children. The need is still there, and sometimes, we’re able to steal a few minutes or an hour to fulfill this need. Sometimes not, but the need is still there.