"Like" is a strong word. I don't always "like" writing. I like parts of writing, sure. I like when a character surprises me. I like when plot points fall into place perfectly and a choir of angels sing for such a miracle. And I like sharing what I've written with other people, to have that Now-You-Know-What-I-Am-Capable-Of feeling.
I definitely don't always like writing. I don't like second-guessing myself, or putting off writing out of fear of imperfection. And then there's always the This-Is-Crap-And-No-One-Would-Read-It feeling. My Inner Editor is a bitch who takes on a striking resemblance to my third grade teacher, Mrs. Glover.
A better question to ask is, why do I write?
This seems more fair. Because no one in their right mind would wake up one morning and say, "I think I'll make up a bunch of shit, put it into chapters, realize that none of it makes sense, accept the fact that I will probably never feel okay about what I write, constantly compare myself to more successful writers, and wallow in a world of self-doubt that hinders my basic human needs and drives me to drink." Right? There has to be a pay-off for all the vulnerability, insomnia, and an expensive addiction to caffeine.
So what is it for me? I'd have to say first that there is a voice in my head that says "What would happen if...?" No, not says it. Repeats it. Over and over and over until I finally indulge the voice and write it down. That's how I first started writing, and continue to today. "What would happen if all of humanity lived in colonies above the Earth? What would happen if a girl was a walking, talking Ouija board? What would happen if the spoiled daughter of a mob boss suddenly took her dad's job?"
Writing is also cheap therapy. Self-medication. Not that I have the emotional issues of someone who should go to therapy, but every day stresses need to be dealt with. Some people play video games. Some sleep. Some watch marathon seasons on Netflix. I do all of these things, and I write. They're all outlets in their own way. At least with writing, you can murder someone or go paragliding or live like a Jane Austen character.
The last reason is really something that I've discovered recently, after tucking my writing away from the light of day for years. When I share what I write, and I suddenly have readers, there's a purpose that goes beyond my own need to satisfy a little voice in my head or blow off some steam. All of a sudden, people are inside my characters' minds - feeling what they feel, forming attachments, making them a part of their collection of made-up people who they happen to think of like they're real.
This is strange and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. And it makes all the second-guessing worth it, and all the procrastination easier to fight off.
Why do you write?
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