"I write for the same reason I breath - because if I didn't, I would die."
- Isaac Asimov
I don't know for certain, but I suspect that every great writer feels this pull, at least from time to time. It's a feeling akin to tightness in the chest, combined with a racing of the mind and a maddening of the intellect as well as the spirit. Once the story, or the thought, or the emotion, idea, or image takes hold of the mind, there is no denying the impulse, the raw and carnal need, to express the mind's obsession before any hope of calmness or ordinary life can return. To deny the urge is paramount to denying the body air.
It is a maddening feeling to experience an unsolicited need so great as that call from within to write. There is also no greater feeling than to answer that call and find the rewards of the labors to be spectacular in their completed form.
I feel, at least for myself, it is an addiction; a need that manifests itself in both physical and psychological forms. Certainly it can take over a life just the same as an addiction to alcohol or drugs. Allowed to reach obsessive proportions, it can even do as much damage. Yet to be successful each writer must come to terms with it. Welcoming it into our lives and accepting it as a natural part of what makes us uniquely who we are.
For me being a writer has never really been a choice. Even when I tried to deny it, swore off it cold turkey, I could never beat the addiction. I was miserable in my life and in my mind and soul. I went through days, weeks and months trying to understand life without the release of thought upon paper. It was hell.
To this day I still don't understand how non-writers survive in this world. I have to write. It is my happiness, my sanity, my vice, my passion and my desire. It is my air.
- Isaac Asimov
I don't know for certain, but I suspect that every great writer feels this pull, at least from time to time. It's a feeling akin to tightness in the chest, combined with a racing of the mind and a maddening of the intellect as well as the spirit. Once the story, or the thought, or the emotion, idea, or image takes hold of the mind, there is no denying the impulse, the raw and carnal need, to express the mind's obsession before any hope of calmness or ordinary life can return. To deny the urge is paramount to denying the body air.
It is a maddening feeling to experience an unsolicited need so great as that call from within to write. There is also no greater feeling than to answer that call and find the rewards of the labors to be spectacular in their completed form.
I feel, at least for myself, it is an addiction; a need that manifests itself in both physical and psychological forms. Certainly it can take over a life just the same as an addiction to alcohol or drugs. Allowed to reach obsessive proportions, it can even do as much damage. Yet to be successful each writer must come to terms with it. Welcoming it into our lives and accepting it as a natural part of what makes us uniquely who we are.
For me being a writer has never really been a choice. Even when I tried to deny it, swore off it cold turkey, I could never beat the addiction. I was miserable in my life and in my mind and soul. I went through days, weeks and months trying to understand life without the release of thought upon paper. It was hell.
To this day I still don't understand how non-writers survive in this world. I have to write. It is my happiness, my sanity, my vice, my passion and my desire. It is my air.
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