I spent the day writing yesterday. I clocked eleven hours at work and wrote almost the entire time – didn’t even break for lunch.
Yay, right?
Not so much. I wrote reports. SQL queries. Data analysis. Information structured to someone else’s specification in order to let them know that our business was growing their business. But at least I wrote, right?
I used to have dreams (like so many of us do) of writing a novel, selling it right away, and getting rich and retiring at a young age. My mother taught me that; she was constantly sending off manuscripts when I was younger, living off the same dream. I still fantasize about such a thing, but practicality and statistics have taught me that my odds aren’t high.
It doesn’t matter the way it used to. Don’t get me wrong, I would still love for it to happen. It’s not longer my driving motivator though. I’ve figured out *gasp* that I actually like creating. I still love seeing my name in print – it’s why I continue to submit. I got my first magazine the other day with one of my short stories in it. Two copies. One stays in plastic and the other is already manhandled and has been drug around the house being admired.
It’s not my day job, though. I don’t know if I would ever want it to be. I’d still love to retire young, but writing is an escape from the every day. If it becomes the every day, will I analyze data to escape instead? Probably not.
So I have to wonder, why do other people write? Is it for the glory? To purge creative thoughts? To escape into a world no one else can enter without your permission? To save the world? Somthing else? What kind of demons drive us?
Dude! People came in the night and wrote graffiti on your walls. At least you got the roof fixed.
Writing is a challenge: To see how good you can get, how high you can fly, if you can get a bit of recognition, and if you can make some money out of it. All are worthy goals.
This is actually a hard question to answer. I like to say I write because I’m meant to or that the characters need their stories told, but I’m not sure that is the real reason. One main reason is simply that I want to write. It’s something I enjoy and want to work hard at in order to maybe one day be published. I also write because I know that glbtq teens (and even adults) could use more books available with glbtq main characters that focus on more than sex. So, those are some of the main reasons I write, maybe.
I like the idea of pushing boundaries – of doing it partly to watch your own growth. But I think you’re both right in that it’s hard to pin the ‘reason for writing’ down to a simple sentence. Probably why I keep blogging about it. It’s just too complex to define completely.
@Laura (who I am about to start calling LMB for clarity’s sake :-P), I’ll clean the scribbles off the wall soon…and replace them with my own 😀 I just needed something more colorful (yes, I know it’s still shades of gray) to keep me company until my graphic artist (who is close friends with my maid and co-author) is done with my graphics 😀