I’ve been asked many questions over the decades concerning writing, but one that often stands out is: Why do you write?
I’ve answered this with a question of my own: why do you fish, why do you build houses, why do you do what you do? The obvious reason is because I want to.
Telling others why I loved fishing was easier than explaining why I loved to write. I mean, to many, writing was school work, which they were thankfully graduated from and wouldn’t have to do again.
Lately, I get this question with an add on: Why do write so much?
Ten years ago, I couldn’t answer this question nor the simple one (why do you write) as accurately as I can at this moment. It’s not that I’ve thought about it any more; the answer simply comes to me when I’m asked.
Why do I write like a mad woman?
The Short Answer
I have stories that need to be told before I die, and I want to live where I love.