I must write.
For as long as I can remember, I sought out forms of self expression. I was publishing a magazine in the third grade (circulation 48) without the aid of wordprocessing, desktop publishing, scanners and laser printers. Later on, I painted, but the oils would not cooperate and the canvas mocked me. So, I write. Drawing and other forms of art (from sculpting to charcoal) proved equally frustrating, never truly enabling the expressions I wished to convey. So, I write. Music in all forms, most of which are loved deeply, was attempted via guitar, sax and piano, but it all seemed like a foreign language that I simply could not grasp. So, I write. Photography is as close as I've come to finding a mistress to challenge writing, but she is a distant second cousin and I've simply not been able to invest the time, money and effort to get to know her well enough. Writing is the only creative marriage that lasts, so I remain forever faithful to her.
Writing allows me to define who I am, who I was, and who I wish to be. When the spoken word becomes too hard to master, I find myself turning to the keyboard and usually the words find a way to the screen and, hopefully, to the hard drive. I have no idea how the little ones and zeros in the computer's brain end up in the form of words, sentences, paragraphs, chapters, poems and free verses... but it has become a place of comfort, self worth, and soul searching discovery.
I write because I must. There is no stopping it. Nothing short of death will stop the words from spilling from my brain. I only hope my readers can enjoy the verbal carnage and occasionally beautiful word paintings it leaves behind.
Why do you write?
© 2006 Landen Michaels / STRESSEDwriter (written, with little editing on 2006.11.23)