Why do I Write

Of late, I have often been asked this question – Why do you write? My prompt answer to that 

question normally is – Because I do not know anything else! However, it made me ponder and here’s what I feel.

I love writing because every story I weave is like opening a beautiful gate to the mysterious.

I love its ambiguousness, its capriciousness, the way it has taught me about life, about joy, about people.

I love discovering an innovative voice to compose in. At the outset this voice is just a murmur, a flicker inside your mind. But then the murmur cultivates and gains a clout all of its own. And then you perceive the voice even when you’re doing laundry, washing the dishes or slipping off to sleep.

I love exploring newfangled worlds, new characters that don’t originate from me but from somewhere out there, way out there from some place out of my control.

I love the way characters express to you and communicate to you what they want.

I love the manner in which writing digs up the bygones and discovers the prospects of future.

I love the way writing helps you figure yourself. Wish to discard emotional baggage? Then write about it.

I love writing since I have met so many compassionate and magnificent people through it.

I love writing because it loves me back.

I love writing because it liberates me.

I love writing because it sets me free.

I love writing because that’s the only thing I know to do.

I love writing because it’s my love.

I am driven by the power of writing – as a device for expressiveness, for healing, for inspiring, for bringing transformation. That is exactly why I write – to express myself, to restore myself, to test myself and to transform myself. If in the course of writing, if someone else is healed, challenged or driven to change, that is a surplus.

Why do you write?

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