Why I Keep Writing
I write a lot of crap stories, and I write some gems. I want all of them to be excellent, but many of them suck. So why do I keep going?
Do I know my sucky stories suck while I’m writing them? No, of course not. Maybe. The writing process is filled with discovery and epiphany, but occasionally, I’m the only one discovering and epiphanizing. The reader, on the other hand, is like, “Blech. What a waste of time.”
Why do we feel the need to vomit on our computer screens and expect other people to sift through our regurgitation? Because more seems better. Because sometimes we have to keep writing to keep writing. As redundant as that seems.
Is more better or is more just more? I don’t know. I do know that more is practice. Is all practice good? No, but all practice is practice. What are we practicing for? Writing. Full circle, baby.
Somedays, I have nothing to say, so why is my mouth still moving? Why am I still typing? Because sometimes the act of writing is enough. Sometimes it’s nothing more than proof of life as a writer. Do writers need to prove they’re writers to themselves? Yes, of course. Nobody else is going…
