Writers are always asked why they write. No doubt there are a million blog posts out there on this precise topic for exactly that reason. That’s okay. Let’s make this one million and one.

Maybe you have ideas and it’s not something you’ve committed your energy to yet. Maybe you’re a veteran going through the motions. Hopefully this post will speak to all writers regardless of where they are in their journey. There’s usually more than one reason, and no reason is more valid than another. Though the reason that stands out the most at any given time might fluctuate.

I write because I love it. Pure and simple. But also, not so simple. I write because I have to write. If I don’t, bad things happen. I don’t mean in the world. This isn’t a weird superpower I have where if I don’t write governments of the world explode into war. I repeat, there will be no nuclear fallout if I don’t write.

Governments needn’t any help in that area.

It’s more that I always have ideas. Always. And if I don’t get the words out my mental health dips. I fall into a depressive episode, or my anxiety spikes. Writing is my safe place to feel.

Growing up any emotion that wasn’t happy-go-lucky was corrected. If I cried, I was called a candy ass and told to suck it up. Emotions became an inconvenience. I worked so hard not to exhibit any emotion that was the least bit offensive or off-putting that sometimes as an adult I can’t feel at all. I switch off. I’m a passive vessel, too afraid to react.

There were other things in my life that contributed to this need of safety of course. My life was filled with layers of dysfunction, but that earliest denial to feel what I felt and to be comforted through it is something I’ve recognised as a root reason to why I write.

On paper I can feel truly and deeply. It’s a freedom to feel so freely, which is why I want to publish my stories. I want others to feel the things I feel. I want others to feel safe to explore those emotions or topics that inevitably crop up in writing. It’s the next logical step in my life.

Before I began writing as a means to deal with the stuff going on in my life, I read. I still read I hasten to add, but this was where it began. I could leave my life behind. I could follow along while others faced what they felt were insurmountable odds. Their success was my success, even if only vicariously.

I felt empowered. I felt inspired. If they could do it, so could I. I want to give that back to the world. Will I always succeed?

No. What writer succeeds 100% of the time? None. Sometimes what is written falls completely flat, but I wanted to try. I needed to try.

If I didn’t go for it, I would have spent the rest of my life wondering what might have been. Whose world I might have bettered because I helped them think maybe they could try, too.

So, yes, while the control is good and coping with mental health is of the utmost importance, I have an insatiable need to share what I write. I want to create stories that leave others feeling empowered.

I suppose it’s a type of connection.

Without connection we all perish unhappily in this world, and we spread that unhappiness around. Usually to the people who love us. But with connection there’s very little that can’t be accomplished. I write to connect and to feel connected.

Why do you write?

Is it a driving force that is never completely satisfied? Is it something you do for fun but have absolutely no intention of trying to turn it into a career? Or is it something you’re really good at but you actually don’t love?

Respond here, or maybe write a blog post of your own and link me to it. I want you to connect, too.