On Being a Writer

I write to clear my mind of all the clutter that accumulates fromobserving the work around me.

I write because I feel I have something to say.

I write because I have to.

I write because I feel guilty when I do not.

I write because I understand that neither fame nor fortune will come my way if Ido not write.

This stimuli has begun to digest. The clutter is beginning todisappear into loosely sorted boxes. Looking at the growing stackI begin to see that if my original statement was correct then mostof these boxes would be accompanied by some kind of story.

Instead, they wait forlornly as I move to another place, one thathas been dedicated to a single line of thought: two, maybe threenovels that create a unified whole. One novel stands halfwaythrough its second draft as the rest await their turn. It could beonly one book, but only those who make it to the big times areallowed that many words all at once.

Still, the clutter comes, bad books, boring movies, disturbingplots and ideas. I need to do something with them. I think, Iplot, I digest. Then, at the end of the day, I recognize that I amripping apart someone else's dream. It comes back to me that Ihave the ability to create my own, so I write.

Then there are the GOOD stories. The ones that inspire you andgive you a benchmark to aim for. Never under estimate their valuewhen you find them.

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