Writers Write

That’s what they say. Writer’s write. It’s not whether or not you are published or paid or have a certificate or a degree. It’s whether or not you put pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard. By that definition, I sometimes despair and think I can’t possibly be a writer.
Writers get up early or stay up late just to capture their thoughts in those moments when everyone else is sleeping and they can pour their soul onto paper or at least onto cyber paper. Writers would rather write than eat, or shop or watch tv. Again, I don’t qualify.
The idea of simply devoting time to writing seems self-indulgent. I should be cleaning something or cooking something or tending the garden. I can write when the chores are done. Except that when the chores are done, I’m too tired to write or the inspiration has fled or I need to check my e-mail.
It seems it’s just not enough to think the thoughts and write things in your head as you fall asleep or take a walk. You have to get it down on paper. Another soul has to hear or read it. Who says? Really, who decides such things?
If I create it, I own it. Even if I can’t remember it the next day, it’s still mine. I have made it so and rolled it around in my head and it matters. At least it matters to me. It may be self therapy or self indulgence, but what difference does that make? I still own it. I write for myself. Not for posterity. Who is this posterity anyway? I don’t know them and don’t really care all that much if they know me. I write for myself and sometimes for my writing group or my blog but if that’s all the further it goes, that’s just fine with me. Write on!