I write because I always have. Because I narrate the world inside my head anyway.
I write even though I’m not a storyteller and I have trouble with plots and I never finish anything.
I write because I love words and I love language and what it can do. I write because I read. I see the world in words in my head, not pictures. Words are how I engage with the world. The shape of them, the weight of them is a part of their meaning. The history they carry with them; my history and their own. It’s why misplaced apostrophes hurt – it’s not the same word and the meaning is broken.
I write to get the words out of my head, at two in the morning, in the dark.
I write because I want to share – what I know, what I’ve learned – so maybe I am a storyteller after all.
I write because sometimes it’s easier to work out what I feel if I pretend it’s happening to someone else.