I’ve heard some writer’s get the question, “Why do you write?” Personally, no one has ever asked me; however, I got to thinking about what my answer would be if I were asked.
I write because I cannot not write. It sounds weird, and if you aren’t a writer you may not get it. Writing to me is like breathing. Okay, maybe not THAT mandatory for living, but pretty close. I’ve written regularly since the age of 12. I was paid for my writing starting at the age of 16. Even if I receive no compensation to write, I write.
I have owned this domain name for a long time. I was never sure what I would create on it until recently. I am not new to blogging; however I have been out of the game for a few years. Recently I felt compelled to start generating blog posts again. My creative brain has been on over drive. It happens sometimes. I’ll be reading something, or watching an educational show on television and suddenly I have a nugget that I want to flesh out in writing.
I write because it helps me examine life. My life and my perspective of others. My writing skills outweigh my speaking skills, so it seems like a natural thing for me to express my true, unadulterated feelings, emotions, perspectives and insights in that medium.
I write because I like to share information. I love to teach and while I enjoy teaching live classes, I get a kick out of creating written content that people can read, absorb and learn from. There will come a day when I will do more public speaking and teaching, but in the meantime, I write.
Why do you write? I want to know. I have no readers yet, but if you stumble across this first post on the blog, please leave your comments. What compels you to sit in front of the computer or put pen to paper, spilling your guts onto the page?
Corrie Ann Gray is a visionary writer, strategist, philosopher, and a damn good cookie creator. She is also known as The Renaissance Soul Writer and is the founder and director of the Clean Body Project, where she inspires individuals to live a holistically purpose-filled life.