by Lauren Jones

Created on: July 02, 2008

It's so strange to hear this question asked so blatenly and so open ended, instead os someone asking "Whats your Inspiration?" or the infamous "What are you writing about currently?". Instead they are asking the questions that leads up to all of the other questions, why I write, reminding me all over again why it is every day I wake up and scribble my complex emotions in a notebook that is full of so many contradicting opinions it could very well pass as a new religion. Im sure theres a thousand different answers to this question for everyone and honestly that thought comforts me, to know that people write for different reasons about different experinces that somehow in the end ties us all together, making us feel like as a matter fo fact were not alone in this insane thing weve all come to known as our lives. I write for many reasons, I write to share with the world my feelings for whoever will listen, I write to make sence of my feelings, I write to make sence of others feelings, I write because I hurt, because I love, and simply because I feel. I feel the words courcing through my veins and they have to come pulsing out.

If I had to narrow it down to one answer though, then actually its quite simple(simple being an almost understatement),but I write for the wonderful feeling of release. The release of all my thoughts, feelings, temptations, insecurities and in some cases past lovers, onto sheets of white paper smeared with the ink stains of my yo-yoing emotions. I complelty believe that cliche that every publishing agency in America is pitching writers wo want to be published, that inside everyone their is a story waiting to be told. So whether you write a novel, a short story, or simply a poem, their is a story within the lines of your words and its simply your turn to tell it. I write because once ive told my story whichever form I choose to tell it in, the relase of it sets me free from myself, to a state where even in emotional complexity you cant help but feel content merely for the small fact that its out there. Out of your system and onto white pieces of paper that makes it seem so small and large at the same time, but none the less its out and in the end isnt that what were all searching for within the pages of our writing, an out, from the world, from love, hate, vanity, and judgement?.
We may all write for different reasons, but in the end one fact is the only thing that matters: That we all write for our OWN reasons.

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