Writing is an outlet. Writing is proving I can produce and not just absorb story. Sitting on my backside reading book after book is not developing my intellect, even if it is lusciously delicious. Writing forces me to think, plan, maneuver, reflect, and if nothing else, use correct spelling and grammar.

Hurray for writing.

Writing is an escape. Writing is refusing to quit, refusing to admit that the chances of someone buying your story are slim to none. Zombied out watching America’s Got Talent is not strengthening my character or improving my discipline. Writing forces me to throw myself into the great miasma of artists and plebes who hope to be heard, and who think their voice is worth hearing.

Hurray for writing.