Why?

Working on the print and sort blog project. I just finished printing all of 2017. Now I will read them and file them away. Print 2018 and then I'm done.

It was a much bigger project than I had envisioned. But when I thought about tackling it I didn't think I would read every single thing I've posted here before filing it away.

But how could I not read it all? I'm a freaking genius...

In the blog archive there are three swipes at NaNo. The first one didn't result in blogs being posted THAT November, but it did a few years later when I did NaNo again. I posted all of what I had written towards that long story in October then wrote on it and other fiction in November. I posted the new short stories and ended up with 21 unique fiction pieces that year plus a chunk of words on the first story. Wow. I just printed the 37 blogs from the last time I did NaNo in 2017. That year I just wanted to write 50,000 words so I didn't care if it was fiction or nonfiction. Just words on the screen. It was a lot. And just like the other two times I did NaNo I swore I would never do it again.

But man, that is so impressive to see. All of that output in one month. I mean, wow. I dug in and found words and then found more and then some more. I really like that. I mean look at them all lined up over there on the right. Year after year with number after number of blogs. So I see why I get tempted with NaNo every few years. But I SWEAR never again!

Yesterday when I was getting the car filled up Mitchell (one of the three different guys who tends to be working when I am getting gas) asked what I do. After the whole "Retired??" conversation he asked what I did to keep busy. I told him I write. He asked if I wanted to get published and I told him not really. You all know I've had this battle for ages. There is a part of me that wants ONE thing that I can hold in my hand that someone else deemed worthy of publishing, but that it's not the biggest part of me. That's not why I write. I didn't think Mitchell was really interested in the long esoteric discussion of why I write, but it got me thinking.

I write because it keeps the voices in my head from spilling out and scaring the checker at the grocery store.

I write because, even though he loves me very much, there is only so much ranting Brent should have to listen to.

I write because I am pretty sure I'm good at it and I like doing things I'm good at.

I write because I don't want to ever feel like I am alone in this world and writing brings other people around. Real and imaginary.

I write because I don't want other people to think they are alone in this worlds and my writing gives them a place where they can do the amen nod and know that somewhere there is somebody who agrees with them.

I write because I have stories I want to share.

I write because I have too many words crowding in my head.

I write because if I don't I get really maudlin.

I write because there aren't very many places you can just use a word like maudlin.

I write because it helps keep that pendulum swinging the right direction. Because even though maudlin is a great word, it's a lousy feeling.

I write because I enjoy writing. Except when I hate it. And then I write because I refuse to let writer's block win.

I write because I am a writer and that's just what we do.