Why I write is one of the questions I often ask myself. I could be an accountant like my parents or a nurse like my relatives and friends so I can easily migrate to Australia or Europe, but here I am, a struggling writer without even a writing career to make me proud of.
When we were students, my college professors would often tell us that there’s no money in writing and that Journalism shouldn’t be a course. It’s true there is really no money in writing. Some of the great writers were hapless, starving creatures. Edgar Allan Poe and Christopher Marlowe died in alcoholism; Virginia Woolf in depression; Ernest Hemingway in chronic pain and severe depression.
But writing can be a lucrative career especially if you have managed to be like Stephanie Meyer of the Twilight Series, E. L James of Fifty Shades, Nicholas Sparks, Cecelia Ahern, Paulo Coehlo, Nora Roberts, and Sophie Kinsella, who are all my favorite authors.
But you see, it’s hard to be a writer. We always give a piece of our lives and hearts away with every story that we write that we never get back. But the best, irreplaceable feeling in world is when our readers can relate to them and our stories touch their lives and hearts and these are the reasons why I write.
I write because I want to touch the hearts of my readers like my favorite writers / authors touched mine. I write because the hopeless romantic girl in me wants to create a happy, fairy tale ending or a beautiful love story of her own.
I write because I want to share my faith, my journey to life, fitness, love and heartaches. It makes me happy, fulfilled, accomplished, and selfless. I write because I want to take you to places you’ve never been, meet different kinds of people, make you wonder and imagine things, and experience a roller coaster of emotions.
I write because I want to share with you the lives of ordinary people, their principles in life, their faith, and journey to sickness, old age, and vocation. I write because I want you to know that life is not all about glitz and glamor but also about anger, deep sadness, grief, disappointment, and depression.
I write because it excites me that I can’t sleep at night knowing I don’t have a story to write about or a chapter to fill the next day. I write even if it scares me because sometimes I don’t how to make characters fall in love with each other or how I would finish my story.
I write because it’s all I know. It’s my passion, it’s my life, and it’s the air I breathe.
I write because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you in any other way that if I don’t write and tell you about it, I would be the saddest person in the world.
And I promise to write until there are blank pages to write on, there is me and people, stories, and events to write about, there is you to love or even hate, until I’m old and at the brink of death.
Originally published at Celebrating the Beauty of Life on September 16, 2012 with minor edits