Why Do I Write?

I’ve spoken about this subject before, at length, in fact. But I’ve never really consolidated all my thoughts together before – not in written (typed) word anyway. I’ve been reading since the tender age of five and I actually can’t remember just when I started making up stories to entertain myself.

I didn’t put pen to paper until I was in the last few stages of primary school (unless it was for school, that is) but by that time, I’d had years of practice writing scenes in my head and playing around with both dialogue and story in my head. I’d always enjoyed myself doing it and used it as a way to entertain myself constantly.

It’s not been that long since I finished my very first novella though. Nor has it been very long since I became brave enough to share my work with the wide, often cruel, cold world. I wrote the words The End on my first novella less than a year and a half ago.

My purpose then was to provide some entertainment using characters that were like me, telling a story that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see play out in my city – albeit with fewer creative liberties.

That purpose has evolved in the time that’s gone by. I still want to entertain people but I also want to draw attention to issues that are plaguing people in our communities and aren’t receiving enough attention. I’m a huge believer in passive learning; I’ve been doing it myself for as long as I’ve been reading.

A good story is multi-faceted – it provides you with pleasure, it makes you think, and it makes a point that sticks in your head when you think back to it. I’d love to be able to realize that purpose with everything that I write.

I write because I love it, because I couldn’t dream of a world where I didn’t want to keep conveying meaning through the written word. I share my writing because I want that meaning – that message – to reach as many people as it possibly can.