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The question shouldn't be "why?" it should be "why not?" Ever since I was seven years old, writing a nonfiction tale about my family's summer vacation to Washington, D.C. I have always thought the best way to express myself is through my writing. From then on, no matter how socially inept I was, I could go home and write down what I really felt, saw, heard, and knew in my heart to be true.

I write because it is the only way I can be me and someone else at the same time. Most of the characters that show up in my fiction are me, just enhanced. Maybe I shouldn't be giving that secret away, but I know from talking to other writers that all characters start out as the writer themselves. But given time, the fictional "me" turns into a brilliant character on her own. I discovered these great characters through the magic of Barbie.

In order to remember all of the complex storylines that were going on in my Barbie fantasy world, I began writing them down just so that I knew where I left off. Instead, they turned into twisted plots of teenage sex, betrayal, and divorce. Where did I get these ideas from at that age? Probably from watching too much television, but this was the way I started in writing and I cannot stop. I mean, if I hadn't played with Barbie dolls until I was nearly fourteen, I would never have the drive that do now to write, write, and write.

Most people have discouraged me from the beginning. "Writing is fun, but you'll never make any money." If they only knew. I get great satisfaction out of a perfectly worded metaphor or a paragraph that makes me cry every time I read it. Real writers know those little perks sometimes cannot pull you through the revision process, or the flow of rejection letters that come in after that. Writing is real work, exercising the brain as much as the factory worker exercises his muscles. It's not physical labor, but it is still labor that will one day kill you if you don't stop to take a break.

Then I received advice for the alternative. "Write for money. Be a journalist." While some of the journalism classes I took were fun, it just wasn't a job for me. I couldn't see myself caring about politics, the economy, or the farmer down the road who lost his crop. I wanted to make my own stories. I didn't want to retell the stories of someone else.

I write because it's the only way that I know. If I left all of these ideas continually swirling around in my brain, I wouldn't have a single thought to stand on. And I will make a career out of it one day, even if it is only to prove to those who told me that I couldn't do it. I won't let rejection after rejection stop me. I will let my writing keep taking me to new places. It's all that I need to be happy in this life.

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