Over at My Quality Day, Sharkbytes has written about why she writes. It’s quite a lengthy post, but I very much enjoyed reading it.
And it got me thinking about why I write. I thought back down the years a very long time. When I was & years old I wrote a poem that was hailed as brilliant – for a seven year old. I can only remember the first verse now. It went like this.
Like a mist of darkness
Night falls fast.
But you need not be afraid,
It will not last.
Anyway, as I was too shy, my teacher read it out to the whole school and my head nearly burst with pride. (It was fluke of course, as far as poetry goes anyway.)
At eleven, I went on to a grammar school. A couple of years later, again I had a piece of creative work read out, but only in class this time. It was a monologue by a young boy, based on a play about a strike. We’d been told to write from the point of view of one of the minor characters.
Many years later, as a mature student on a media studies degree course, my adaptation of The Monkey’s Paw for radio was again read out as an example of good use of the medium. I was so much older then, but I felt exactly the same as I had when I was seven and 14.
There were other times too, like when we produced some plays for TV that I’d written, also at college. And I’ll never forget the letter from a features editor who accepted my first article and said how much she loved it.
So I think that’s why I write. I love stringing the words together, and striving for that proud feeling again. There’s just nothing in the world like it.