I have not written very much in the past few months. For the most part, I’ve either been away too much or too absorbed in my work to step back and write creatively. So, now that I have some time, here I am.
I’ve been reading a great deal, on trains, on the tube, before bedtime…it has made me think back to when I first started writing creatively when I was nine. I was always a great fan of story-telling. My mother read to me constantly and as I grew up I put my own stories down on paper and shared them with my friends and my older brother.
It occurs to me that this was my outlet. I had a vivid imagination and a combined diet of films, comics and borrowed teen-novels fed my desire to transport myself and others to lands were anything was possible.
I loved the idea that every scene, every character and every piece of dialogue was mine to command and I could change things in a quick, decisive way that people never can in real life.
I write for a great number of reasons. Apart from the opportunity to create new worlds and new adventures, it is also a way of recording memories. I write to make sense of my past and to understand the people I’ve met and have influenced me throughout my life.
Why do you write? How did you start and what do you get out of it? What would you do if you had a solid month without interruption to write anything you wanted?