It occurred to me that when I did my intro post, I answered a question incompletely.
My answer was to the elaboration, “Why did you create an author page?” when there is one that is (I think) far more interesting. “Why do you write?” Considering that in the year, maybe year and a half I’ve been self-publishing works, I’ve sold somewhere around a hundred copies of various things and grossed maybe $50, it’s a pretty good question. The money certainly is no motivation, although I wouldn’t mind seeing it in greater quantities.
There is no single answer, but if I had to pick the most prevailing, it would be because I feel worthless if I do not create. I work (haha, not at the moment) as an engineer, the byproduct of which will certainly outlast me, but with the same interest and emotion that a rock will. Fiction, poetry, novels, short stories, these will outlast me with substance.
There are other reasons of course. Sometimes I rather like the things in my head and want them to exist with a certain permanence. Sometime I write something I think people might enjoy. Sometime I answer questions that people want answers to (particularly in the hockey statistics I explore).
Sometimes the worlds that I create are more fun to live in than the real one.
That’s something that maybe a lot of people don’t know about me. I method write. I live the story in my head as it goes from my mind, through my fingers, to the word processor. (What a dull term, I propose we replace it with imagination tangibilizer.) I live the fears, the hopes, the goals, the motivations, the triumphs, and the pains of every single character I write. They are no less a part of me than the parts of my physical being, though of course some are my heart, and some merely a toenail. When I’m writing a lot, I frequently have trouble telling when I have emotions because I have them and when I have them because I’m so deep into the story. And usually when dreaming, I can’t tell if they’re real or not.