Why I Write

Will we be able to get to the audiologist and home in time for lunch and my conference call? Maybe I can run in to return shoes at the mall while we’re over by Stanford. No way. Too ambitious. What will the boys do during Pink’s hearing test? What’s going to happen to Olivia Pope/Fitz/heck, the whole cast, for that matter in the next episode of Scandal? Darn it, I forgot to call the arborist. Again. Did I send the check for Big’s baseball camp yet? No, of course I didn’t. Tomorrow. I’ll get it done tomorrow. Is that one of the kids? I swear I just heard something. I really want to read, but I should really get some sleep. Why is my stomach growling? Maybe I should check my email one last time. No, don’t do it. Really, don’t do it. Doh, I did it.

That. That is the reason I write. Yes, those 30 seconds of thoughts as I lay in bed last night. Because that’s just a snapshot of the way my mind races. All day, every day.

Writing forces me to stop. To think about a single topic, and really, really think about it. What happened? Why did it happen? How did I feel about it? As a woman/mom/daughter/friend? How can I shape that into a story that’s bigger than what happened to me, and why, and how I felt about it?

I’m analytical. I’m sensitive. I’m obsessive. While all of these traits have their not-so-positive qualities, I love that they make me want to — need to — write. When these traits are at their best, they make my words human, insightful, and powerful. When I write, I’m in control of my chaotic world, rather than it controlling me.

That. And I like to make people laugh.

Do you love to write? What drives you? This month at Project: Underblog, the monthly link up topic is “Why We Choose to Write”. Head over to the link up and hear from other writers. Or, if you happen to be a writer, join in!