I had a conversation yesterday with a woman who just finished a novel and is doing the publisher search. I'm fascinated by why people write, and lately have been asking this of writer friends. The answer is generally something like this: It's what I do.
Seems it's as simple as that: it's what I do.
I said to her, You mean, like breathing?
She said, Yes, that's it.
On one hand, I envy her a little. She's shopping a novel around, and there's always the (remote) promise of payment. Poets don't possess that illusion. But still we do it, day after day, hours at the keyboard or notepad, typing, scribbling.
And for what?
It allows me to breathe, this daily practice.
It's what I do.
Writer friends, any thoughts on this?