It’s not a question I hear often. Usually people ask what I write or how I do it. They ask where I write or when (either time of day or time period). However, few people ask “why?” I wondered about that.
Wonder. That’s another word. I’ll get back to it. So, when someone asked recently why I write, I didn’t have an automatic answer. I can tell you what, where, when, how, who, but why was elusive at first. I think I gave some pat answer about how I have all these stories in my head and I love putting them on paper and seeing how they “tick.” And it’s true. I really do love that. I’m pretty sure I added something about it being a way to share my faith without preaching– I hope. That is also true. Writing helps me share the Hope that is within me..
Now I know the answer I would give. It’s a little cliche in it’s ambiguity, but it’s true. I write because I am. I exist; therefore, I write. See, I keep thinking of me as someone who started writing about 12 years ago. That’s a bunch of bunk. I’ve written, first in my mind, then a short stint on legal pads, then back in my mind again, and now on the computer ever since I was about four or five that I can remember. I write because it is what God made me– a writer.
Wonder. I said I’d get back to that. I think that every time I find a stale section of my writing, if I look close, wonder is absent. I need to ensure that I keep a keen sense of wonder in my writing– that and an occasional touch of whimsy.
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