Why Do You Write?

WHY DO YOU WRITE? 

Leave me a comment below with your answer.

Begin your reply with “I write because…” 

Don’t overthink it. Write the first thing that pops in your head. (Feel free to leave more than one answer.)

I’ll start.

I write because I love writing.

I write because if I didn’t, the characters in my head would never come alive and their stories would never be told. And if I didn’t explore them or write them down, I’d probably explode.

I write because it is necessary. Writing liberates me.

I could go on, but I’ll stop here.

Now it’s your turn. 🙂

5 Fiction Writing Tips from Famous Authors

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Photo by Corey M. P. (Shakespeare and Company Bookstore, Paris)

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
—Anton Chekhov

“Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.”
—Henry Miller

“All fiction has to have a certain amount of truth in it to be powerful.”
—George R. R. Martin

“Your job isn’t to find these ideas but to recognize them when they show up.”
― Stephen King

“So okay―there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You’ve blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water. Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about? And the equally big answer: Anything you damn well want.”
― Stephen King

5 Tips on How to Become a Prolific Writer

5 writing tips from author, James Scott Bell:
1. Write a certain number of words on a regular basis
2. You’ll learn a lot from completing a novel
3. Treat writing as a job
4. Have a weekly quota
5. Take one day off a week to recharge

 

 

5 Quotes About Rewriting

1. “You write your first draft with your heart, and you rewrite with your head.”
―James Ellison, Finding Forrester: A Novel

2. “You become a great writer by writing lots and lots of stories, not by rewriting the same story over and over again.”
―Scott William Carter

3. “Writing a first draft is like groping one’s way into a dark room, or overhearing a faint conversation, or telling a joke whose punchline you’ve forgotten. As someone said, one writes mainly to rewrite, for rewriting and revising are how one’s mind comes to inhabit the material fully.”
―Ted Solotaroff

4. “Novels are like paintings, specifically watercolors. Every stroke you put down you have to go with. Of course you can rewrite, but the original strokes are still there in the texture of the thing.”
—Joan Didion

5. “The process of rewriting is enjoyable, because you’re not in that existential panic when you don’t have a novel at all.
—Rose Tremain

5 Quotes About Writing

1. “You can make anything by writing.” 
― C.S. Lewis

2. “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.” 
― Robert Frost

3. “Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” 
― Louis L’Amour

4. “This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It’s that easy, and that hard.” 
― Neil Gaiman

5. “You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” 
― Saul Bellow

A Quote

“Write the kind of story you would like to read. People will give you all sorts of advice about writing, but if you are not writing something you like, no one else will like it either.”
― Meg Cabot

How to Write

I love this scene.

“You write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is…to write.”

So you want to be a writer?

by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don’t do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it for money or

fame,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don’t do it.

if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,

don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,

don’t be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don’t be dull and boring and

pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to

sleep

over your kind.

don’t add to that.

don’t do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don’t do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it  by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in

you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

New Friends in Old Montreal

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Am I really here? Because the lack of sleep and the temporary jolt from the caffeine this morning have left me wondering if I conjured all this up in my head. It’s possible. But my doubts fade fast, and everything becomes real as soon as the cobblestones touch the soles of my shoes, and we walk past narrow streets surrounded by historical buildings, and I hear Chad’s voice.

“This is it. This is Old Montreal,” he announces, spreading his arms. “This square is ‘Place Jacques-Cartier.’”

I inhale slowly, soaking it all in. I step forward and backward, my neck twisting and turning, memorizing every corner. I feel an instant connection to this place. Something about being here grabs me and infatuates me. I begin taking mental pictures of the narrow alleys decorated with rows of artists and vendors. I start imagining myself dining at the sidewalk cafes, sitting there with Chad during the summer, spring, winter, and fall. I get this strong desire to take off my shoes and walk barefooted on the cobblestones as if I have found my new home. But I leave my thoughts and emotions to myself. Instead, I look at Chad, who is watching me with a smile that melts me away.

How did I get here?

—HIGH by Corey M. P. (Chapter 4, New Friends in Old Montreal)

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