Why Write?

Is it that we have too much to say? Writers are no wiser than anyone else; we cannot write better [sic] or more thought provokingly than anyone else. Most of us, myself included, fell into being published, almost by accident. Many of us rely on auto correct, Image result for writerthe little wavy green line that mocks our grammatical errors, and the freely donated inspiration of good coffee!

Maybe we just want people to know the real us without coldly stripping off while they watch. This way it’s like a peeping tom, peering through muslin covered windows, while we show a blurred, softened outline of our thoughts.

The drive to write, to create images and acquire agreements, is strong, and maybe that is the only difference between someone who doesn’t care about writing, someone who wants to be a writer, and someone who is a writer.

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I still find it hard to believe that I am a writer – how did that happen? I’ve been putting my thoughts down on social media for years, originally as a coping mechanism after my ex left me (‘I must not be bitter/angry/drunk’ repeat as needed) to cope with two unruly racing malamutes, a whole heap of debt and the results of 20 plus years of mental abuse.

So, to prove I could do it, I signed up for an Open University degree in psychology and philosophy, and guess what, not only can I do it, but I love it – the study, the challenges, the stationary (yes, I am a stationary whore – coloured pens, post it notes, organiser note pads *shudder*).

After two years – yes, I’m a slow crawler, and lots of support from friends, I realised that my arse was getting flat (and fat) just doing nothing – I had to get a job, both for my sanity and bank balance. But what?

Depression and severe eczema made it hard to work a normal 9-5 job, and with my beloved mals, almost impossible. So a job from home – perfect…..except for all the scams. So many promises, so much hype, so few actual jobs.

Write a book I was told by my ‘fan group’ (love ya xxx); not as easy as it sounds, and a very slow burner financial wise. I looked at starting a lifecoaching business – I have business cards, pot plants and framed certificates – what more could I want? Oh yes, Clients. No one needs life coaching – that’s what friends are for.

So, by chance I found a freelance writing site – people who want articles, blogs, reports etc advertise, you sell yourself ‘yes, I’m perfect for your project because blah blah blah …….look just give me the sodding project, and I’ll turn it into something shiny’, propose a price that you hope looks cheap, but not too cheap – after all quality costs (I’m sure someone clever said that, if not, I’m copyrighting it).

And this is what I do; I whore my talents, such as they are, out to buyers. I’m good, I meet all my deadlines, I edit and re-edit until the client is happy, I work all hours, 7 days a week, I research every tiny detail, and I bloody love it!!!

I am a writer – hoorah (and my arse is still flat and fat)