The first was on a forum I visit, wherein the thread was about the end of “celebrity authors” in the internet age. I’m not going to post my views about that, because this is not what this post is about (mostly).
The second conversation was with my brother about the zombie apocalypse (I swear, we talk about nothing else). Which basically came down to me saying that if I survived (I have a pretty sweet plan, btw), and even if I was the only survivor in the world, I would continue to write.
What’s the point? You may ask.
Well, for one, it would give me something to do when I wasn’t desperately trying to survive, or showing off my sweet zombie slaying skills*. In a world full of danger, you need downtime, something relaxing. Like reading, or a hobby.
I write because I have to. Because the characters in my head won’t shut up, and because I can’t stop exploring new worlds. And even if there was no more paper or pens left in the world, I would continue to make up stories and worlds and characters in my head. It would be the stories themselves that would keep me going, keep me alive and sane when all looks hopeless and pointless.
I don’t write for fame and fortune (although they would be nice). Nor do I write for validation. I write for the same reason I draw, because it’s something I enjoy doing. And as long as I enjoy it, I will keep on doing it.
*Note to self: I should probably write a zombie book.
Why do you write?
Also, don’t forget to enter my Secret Santa give-away. There are some pretty cool things in there. May the odds forever be in your favor.