Let Me Count The Ways . . .

April’s subject for our blog is why we write. Over the last couple of weeks I've thought of numerous reasons, jotted them down somewhere, and lost every note.  So, as of today, why I write is apparently to add a little more frustration into my life. J

I could also say it’s because I like having ten piles of papers littering my computer room. One for this manuscript, one for that WIP, one for ‘have to do now,’ one for work, and on, and on, and on. With each year of writing, I seem to add another pile. But, I do know where most of my stuff is. It’s in my nice blue room with pictures of the ocean adorning its walls. Somewhere, waiting for Nina to come and organize it.

Sometimes I write to get the voices in my head to shut up. If I get it out on to black and white, then I don’t have to rehash that particular scene over and over. I type it all out and have peace, until the next scene starts forming. Unless my brain decides it can do it better and demands a rewrite. Then it’s back to square one.

I began writing to see if I could do it. I've made stories up in my head my entire life, but I wasn't sure how to get them out of my brain and on to paper. One day I just sat down and began. I had an entire story written before I ever joined WARA. After joining, I learned how to turn that story into a book. 

Writing is also a source of pleasure for me. On the days when I’m not totally fried, I’ll write instead of sit in front of the TV for some down time. Sometimes I write anyway, but it’s more of a struggle. Writing when I enjoy it is easy.  I like discovering where my characters are going and how they will get there. It’s often a surprise and I find myself asking, “Where did that come from?”

Another reason I write is the joy that comes from knowing people like my books. Even though I’m not published* many people have read my stories. The favorable responses have far outweighed any negatives. Those that have received emotional healing through them make it all worthwhile. Writing is a lot of hard work, long hours and personal sacrifice.Knowing you've impacted someone’s life for the better is an awesome incentive.

When I first started on this journey I was hoping to earn some cold, hard cash for doing something I enjoyed. Hasn't happened* but that’s okay. My goal is to write the best stories I can that are a positive influence on those that read them. If money comes with that some day, then great. If not, I’ll live.

I’m sure there are many more reasons why I, and others, write. Please share some of yours with us.

* YET!


Penny Rader said...

I need Nina to organize me, too, Becky. :D

Unlike you, I haven't made up stories in my head all my life. Maybe that's not quite true. When I was kid we played outside a lot. I would often imagine I was in horrible danger and Bobby Sherman or Little Joe from Bonanza or Davey from The Monkees or Elvis was going to rescue me. ;D Yep, sad to say, I wasn't the one doing the rescuing, just the one stranded on the swing set or the bottom bunk of the bed or whatever came to mind that day.

I didn't write much as a kid. I'd try to keep a diary for a week or two, but one day to the next was pretty much the same and my diary was quite boring. A couple times I used it to vent about something bothering me...but when a family started quoting pieces I knew I'd written I felt humiliated and betrayed (and after already dealing with bullies at school on a daily who needs that kind of crap at home, where you're supposed to be safe and comfortable?), I stopped journaling.

It wasn't until I was a young mom and saw a few interviews with romance writers that I wondered if maybe I could write the kinds of books that had pretty much saved my sanity as a teen and as a young mom. Gosh, I'm just going on and on. Time to wrap this up!

Isn't it such fun when someone likes what you've written? Though when they tell me in person I don't quite know what to do or say. The boyfriend of one of my daughters read my book and quoted bits of it to me. I burst out laughing, like a ninny. Tickled he read and liked the book, but at a total loss for words.