I was getting ready to write a nice little post continuing my wrap-up of the "why do you do this" discussion. I was going to give you my reasons for writing, and share some of my deeply held beliefs about the power of stories.
And then it hit me.
You know that feeling. The feeling that screams "You are not qualified! You are failing!" The feeling that sucks all the energy from your muscles and turns your stomach into a knot.
Words evaporate. Your dreams crumble under your fingers like a dried-up sand castle. You feel scraped out, uncreative and hopelessly broken.
That's where I am tonight. Tired, battered and just the tiniest bit angry at the universe. Do I like this feeling? Not in the least.
Am I quitting? Hell no.
I ask myself why I write. And even on days like this, the answer comes back clear and unwavering.
I write because writing brings light into the darkness of the world. Every act of creation, when done with love and compassion, creates ripples that we cannot see or measure.
I write because when I write, I am made better. When someone reads it they are made better (hopefully). It is a small healing but it matters.
I write because the world breaks my heart and words stitch it back up again.
This wasn't the wrap-up I was planning, but there you have it.
That's why I write.