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Why do I write?

It never fails. The question I try to avoid, more than only one other, popped up today.

“So, tell me what you do.”

The answer I gave them was succinct, only because it was Twitter and I couldn’t exceed 140 characters.
“Security Analyst by day, Computer Solutions guy by nature, Finder of facts/research for fun, and fledgling writer by night.”

Fortunately, because I was chatting with a professional writer, the dreaded questions did not pop up:
“Oh! What have you written?”
“Why do you write?”

The first is easier, if a little embarassing, “Nothing much yet. I am working on a couple of projects.”
That generally gets me an “Oh,” or “That’s nice.”

The second question is harder, especially if the first one was asked prior to it.

Why do I write?

I have written things since High School. By “written things,” I mean to say projects that were not assigned to me or associated with school and in some sort of format or standard way.

In High School, I filled notebook after notebook with poetry, most really bad poetry, but by the time I was a Senior and into college, I felt secure enough to give them away as gifts to special people.

Aside from the poetry, the rest of my creative writing energies were consumed by Role Playing Games. I wrote suppliments for publication, adventures for private and tournament / convention use, backgrounds, side stories, histories, and worlds related to the Role Playing Games I frequented.

This culminated in the beginning of a Game Design company, after college, called Asgard Game Designers. I and my partner traveled to conventions, sold some of our creations, shared others, made a lot of friends, spent a lot of time, and even made a little money. What a life – Write and Play games and get paid for it. Like many dreams of youth, it proved much harder to make work than it was to play at it.

Fast Forward a dozen years of almost no writing aside from assignments and reports for work. I have some friends that liked the same RPGs I played in college and we start playing – and I start writing again. Soon after that, my family went to Nairobi, Kenya for 5 months. While there, the last Harry Potter book came out, which we read as a family. As soon as the book ended, I began thinking about a story – completely unrelated, not even magic. It was not long until I began not being able to sleep at night until I began to jot down some of these scenes into a story.

Here we are, two years later and I am still working on that story, and several others. I write short stories, flash fiction, almost anything to get the pop-up stories out of my hear so I can get back to the story I really want to tell.

So, why do I write?
I have stories I want to tell and some other stories squirm their way out in the meantime.
It is not so much that I choose to write, but more that I cannot imagine not doing so.

Clearer now? Glad you asked?

Categories: essay, musings
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