Yesterday, I posted a comment on FaceBook that prompted a most unexpected response. It was one of those moments where only part of the total thought got communicated, and it came off sounding the opposite of what I meant.

Here’s what I posted: Rethinking the whole writing thing. Hmm…think, think, think. Should I continue or not? The story matters to my characters. That’s reason enough to keep at it.

Here’s what I meant: Every once in a while I need to check my motives. It’s a simple question, “Why do I write?” When I was just starting out, I entertained all the typical reasons: Big book deal with a major publisher; national, no international fan base; long uninterrupted days in my writing office/library in a house on a cliff overlooking an angry Pacific Ocean, listening to soft jazz, sipping coffee, wearing big sweaters while a low fire crackles in the hearth. Thirteen years later, I see things in a different light. The only correspondence from publishers comes in the form of rejection, my total reader base could probably fit in a Barnes and Noble, and my dream office/library is three thousand miles west of here. So why do I write? Why must I write?

Here are my reasons:

I have a story to tell and I can’t rest until it’s told.

My characters are my friends. I like them a lot, and I want to give them the chance to live out the adventures they are meant to live.

My readers are important to me. They’ve given their time to my books. They’ve entrusted me with their emotional investment in my characters. I’m committed to honor the reader/writer covenant.

It brings a joy that is beyond words. I hope that comes through in the joy some of my characters experience in the worlds we create together.

Those are some of the reasons I won’t stop writing. A word to everyone who responded to what may have sounded like a statement of resignation. You are the evidence for #3. Thank you for giving me a chance and a reason to keep writing.