Why I Write

Why do I write?

That’s a question that I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. The answer used to come to me so easily, but now, it evades me. I suppose that’s what happens when you mix pleasure with work; pleasure becomes work, and you forget why you love what you love in the first place. So much beta reading, editing, and now ghost writing have caused me to forget why I love the thing that has been the core of my identity for so many years. Even writing for Vocal has been more work than pleasure at times, leaving me floundering to rediscover my writing self.

Then I wrote the self-reflective piece “My Potential”, my entry into Vocal’s Writers Challenge. No, work did not suddenly become pleasure, and I did not immediately lighten my workload in favor of writing that I actually want to do as a result of exploring how my writing has changed over the years. However, I did remember something that I have not remembered in a long time: why I write—and the fact that I am no longer writing for that reason.

As I wrote “My Potential”, I realized that, no matter how my writing has changed since my first official short story, my reason for writing has stayed the same: to be heard. All I have ever wanted is to be heard and to have my perspective on the world understood by others. Whether it was my view of relationships, as seen in “Dates, Not Dating”, or my political views, as seen in “Patient Zero”, I wanted to use fiction, poetry, nonfiction—it didn’t matter—to show others how the world looked to me. I simply did not feel heard in real life, and so writing was where I went to finally raise my voice.

The more I started to use my skills to help others fulfill their writing dreams, the less I wrote with my own goal in mind. I did not have the time, the energy, or the will to do so anymore. I had to make money, and the only way I could make money was to use the skills that I had developed for the benefit of others. Yet the less I wrote for my own goal—for myself—the less I wrote like myself. My writing simply wasn’t mine anymore. At least, it wasn’t my best.

My heart wasn’t in it anymore.

That doesn’t mean that I can’t write anymore or that what I write is bad (although I’m not the best judge of that). It just means that I know I can do better, and what I have been writing is not me. The further I drift away from my reason for writing, the further I drift away from being the best writer that I can be.

This might sound like the ramblings of someone who has just lost their way on the writing path—but it could happen to you. With all the contests on Vocal and opportunities to write for money out there, it could be very tempting to lose yourself to writing for financial gain (even if it’s just a penny here and there). Many famous writers have done it.

Did you know that Edgar Allan Poe wrote his stories just to make money?

The key to being the best writer that you can be—perhaps not the best-paid, but the most talented—is to answer for yourself the question “why do I write”. Then you must stick to that reason as your driving force in writing. In other words, you must write for yourself. Only then will you be a fulfilled, content writer.

Does this mean that I will stop my beta reading, editing, and ghost writing? No. Much like Edgar Allan Poe, I have to eat and have bills to pay. So, until I find a way to make money off of what I really want to write, I will continue to make others’ writing dreams come true. As far as jobs go, it’s not the worst way to go. However, I will try and make more time for my own writing, for expressing my own view to the world.

Maybe this time, I will be heard.