The Real Reason Why I Write

The bigger you are...

Because I love it, I’m good at it, I love to play with words, and work with words as much as read them. Words thrill me the way you put them together, mix them up, tweak them, select them, reorder them and they speak back to you in all kinds of different ways. Make you laugh, cry, cringe, and draw you into the drama and danger!

Okay, okay, do you want to know the real reason why I write? Because it’s safe. Not much can go wrong sitting on a chair in front of the screen, or balancing a laptop on your knee.

I was a clumsy child, born with two left feet. I fell over them all the time along with any stray hairs left lying on the ground. My orthopaedic surgeon once asked what on earth I’d done to my knees, since the damage to them resembled that of a champion skier. I couldn’t explain, but, now, thinking about it, I think it was all that falling down I did as a kid. And what did I land on every single time? Yep, my knees. It’s a wonder my nickname wasn’t Scabbers. (And no rat jokes thank you!)

My knees wore scabs more than shorts. The pair of them. Yet, I had two sisters who could run like hares and won all the school races. Me, where did I come? Last, and that’s only if I finished the race because I had a bad habit of falling over three strides in.

I did grow into my clumsiness and even grew up to play a reasonable game of tennis. I could swim rather well too. (It’s hard to fall down in a swimming pool.) I could have been an Olympian, the like of Shane Gould, if only my parents had given up some sleep and taken me to training at 4 a.m. Just for a few years until I got faster.

Writing I can do sitting down. Nothing to bang my head on, crash into, slip over or trip up on. Love it. But it’s the words that keep me coming back. I can lose myself in others drama and danger and still get up from my chair unscathed.

Not like a simple act of trying to find a connection on the back of the television the other night. Stepping out from behind the television table, I couldn’t get my second foot to follow the first. I don’t know what it even caught on, but down I went – hard. OUCHIES! And all for what – a Nintendo cable connection. Another dangerous sport! So no more games or sporty activity for me. I’m sticking to writing.

Hope you can’t prove me wrong really, but fess up in the comments if you’ve had any diabolical disasters while writing. Otherwise, tell me instead what do you love about writing and being a writer?

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