ESSAY

Why I Write

People ask me why I write. And the most common answer I give them is because I want to.

But the real reason is because I have to. There is something inside me so powerful that it forces me to write. Someone said that stories are ghosts. They come out from nowhere and haunt you. To what purpose, only the ghost can tell. Sometimes it is just there to amuse you, others to help you realize your fate. But always, always they enrich our lives a little at a time. And I believe him, whoever he is, because I feel these ghosts whispering to my ear everyday. They scream for their stories to be told and they haunt me until I have written them, all these places, characters, situations and ideas, down onto paper. It doesn’t matter if it comes out as a story, poem, a song or an essay, as long as their soul is there.

I suppose being a loner and a bit nerdy as a kid helped me develop my imagination. Out of necessity, sprouted tales of love and romance with my Care bears and my dog Honey. I acted out scenes of Jack and the Beanstalk to my beloved dog as if I was rehearsing for a play. I made up dozens of stories from playing pretend when I was alone in my room, often fantasizing about other worlds or my own “Indiana Jones” adventure.

My dreams and nightmares also played an important role in my writing. Fears and aspirations toyed inside my head. The supernatural, the dark forces and the curious leave me shaking in fright but inspired to write stories just like them. Although, some dreams are meant to be forgotten.

Still, that doesn’t mean I’m a great writer. I may have the perfect storyline or a subject for a poem but unless I have the right words to describe what these ideas are, my pieces are no good. What is a singer without a good voice? What is a writer who cannot articulate well? So I read and read. I try to find ways to make my craft better by developing my own writing style. I look for friends who can support me when I need encouragement and search for opportunities to make my writing voice heard.

I guess this is my feeble attempt at immortality. If I could touch just one person with my works, then I could say that my stay in this world is not a waste. God didn’t make a mistake in creating me after all.

So until I realize my dream, you’ll find me here, sitting in front of the computer, punching key after key and writing the soul of my latest ghost.