Let’s be honest, here. No one cares why I write. There isn’t a person on this planet that is interested to know that just the mention of a word, or the sound a sentence makes in the back of one’s throat could cause a flurry of emotion; a tumultuous chaos within me so great that if I don’t write it down in that very precious of sanctimonious moment, I’ll lose it forever.
No one is interested in the fact that when I write, I lose myself. I lose time, place, and breath. No one is interested in knowing that when I lock myself on a subject, it consumes me to the point that I can’t hear what’s going on around me or that I can’t rest until it’s out. They don’t care to know that soul-sweat exists and that words can reel against my skin until they drive me mad. They need a release, and my body is caging them.
What people care about is how I’m going to connect with them. People want something that makes them disappear when they’re reading just as much as I disappear while I’m writing. They want escape and comfort. They want to be whisked away to some magic land that does not exist within their humdrum lives. They want me to tell them that they are beautiful or amazing. They want to feel charmed under their wings, and want the tickle of fairy dust in their lungs.
No one cares why I write. They care about how I write.
They care that I am willing to carve out a chunk of my soul and make it into a story they can understand and relate to. They care that no matter what’s going on in their lives, I can cause them to FEEL themselves. They want me to stir their own souls out of hiding and exile. They care about what’s it in it for them. They want their time and effort to be worth it.
I write because I have to.
But I write for you because I love you.
I write for you because I want you to know what it’s like to feel the sanctity of a dew drop and the breath of a butterfly wing. I want you to know that in my heart and in my head, there’s a place that you can escape when the pressures of the world are too great. I write to remind you to laugh when you are down and to tell you that you are powerful, and amazing, and beautiful, and brazen, and bold, and heroic.
I write because my blood is made of ink and I am willing to bleed for you.