October 20, 2011
Why I Write.

It’s National Writing Day, and I’ve not typed a single thing of worth today. But that’s alright, that’s why I write. I write to get better and to learn and see what I can see through someone elses eyes. 

I write because I can imagine things, and I think that to share parts of yourself is to show you care. I started writing because it mad me feel better, and still now it stops everything outside from getting in and making things bad. It puts a stopper on Pandora’s box.

It makes me feel like someone important. To the characters I craft I am a vengeful manipulative overlord. 

On the other hand, I write to make a life better. I write to give hope and to inspire and to try and help. 

I write because through words I can do anything. I can walk on the moon, see the stars, fight in a rebellion against an archetypal bad guy, travel in time and space and make friends and enemies and drink with my heroes and spent a quiet night at home. 

I can do anything, as long as I’ve got a selection of letters to make in to words to make in to sentences and paragraphs and chapters. 

That’s why I write. 

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    I dun a fing.
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