Why I Write

Last week, I was in an online discussion with a group of fellow writers, and a thought-provoking topic surfaced: Why do we write? What drives us to spend countless hours creating characters, crafting worlds, and subjecting these figments of our imagination to various trials and tribulations? The answers to these questions can be (and are) as varied as the writers themselves, but for me, the explanation touches something deeply personal and, perhaps, a little existential.

Life is Short

I write because of a profound dissatisfaction—a recognition and a resentment, really—that I only get to live this life once. There are simply too many things I want to do and be, far too many for any single lifetime. The longing to embrace everything is intense, yet the reality is grounding: there is only so much one can do, so many roles one can play.

I Want It All

For instance, despite my varied interests, I will likely never become an ultramarathoner. The chances of me parachuting from a military helicopter on a combat mission are slim, and racing across icy terrains in the Iditarod with a team of dogs is a dream that will remain just that—a dream.

Despite all reason, there is a part of me that craves to know what all these experiences feel like. Writing allows me to slip into the skins of characters who do these exact things. Through them, I explore and live vicariously. When I write about a character parachuting into a war zone, I immerse myself in their fears, their adrenaline rush. Although it’s only a fraction of the real experience, it’s enough to satiate that deep-seated curiosity.

In The Time I Have Left

As I age and acknowledge the narrowing path of my own life’s possibilities, writing becomes even more significant. It offers a gateway to dive into the depths of imagination, to live lives I will never lead, to be people I will never meet. It is, without a doubt, the most satisfying way I’ve found to spend my time. In writing, I find the freedom and the ability to experience the multitude of lives I’ve always desired to know.

So, why do I write? It’s simple: writing is my portal to the infinite, a way to satisfy my yearning for the myriad experiences the world has to offer. Through words, I live a thousand lives—all from the comfort of my desk.