By Judy Clement Wall
On Twitter, there is this big (kind of wonderful) ongoing discussion happening. People are answering the question, “Why do you write?” (You can scroll through the tweets using the hashtag, #whyiwrite). It’s weirdly beautiful and touching, the honesty (cleverness, humility, cynicism, earnestness, narcissism, generosity) with which people have responded to the question.
When I was in college, my favorite professor asked a class full of writers why we write. I told him I write because I can’t imagine not writing. Coincidentally (because Twitter had not yet been invented) my answer was infinitely tweetable. There is more to it, of course. I write to make sense of the world, to communicate, to connect. I write compulsively to understand, to assert myself, to be read. All of that is true, and all of that adds up to the answer I gave. Despite all the reasons not to, despite the inevitable fear, frustration, criticism, rejection, I write because I can’t imagine not writing.
So… tell me. Why do you write?