Why do you write?
Why do you write?
Making time for deep reflection has transformed my own understanding.
It’s one of the simplest, but scariest questions we can ask of ourselves.
Why do you write?
There are better and easier ways of making money, or finding fame (infamy). Maybe you want to work for yourself instead of someone else? That’s great, but there are other ways of doing that, and most of those are more lucrative. Is it because you have stories bursting to be put down on the page? Great, but why don’t these go in a diary?
Why do you write?
I was forced to confront this question as I worked through the submission material for a grant application. There’s always a requirement to submit a letter of intent, which is an opportunity for creators to introduce themselves and what they want to accomplish with the grant. Yet even these letters come with suggested guidelines, and ultimately they feel like they’re more about fawning over the decision-makers than a real opportunity for reflection on behalf of the submitter.
This time, the guidelines suggested I focus on why I wrote.
I stopped cold.
Part of me wanted to knock out a generic response, filled with the usual platitudes and sycophancy that I suspect they long to hear.
But, I couldn’t.
Why did I want to write?
I thought back to that moment when the idea first crystallized; when I decided I wanted to write for Star Trek - a story detailed elsewhere in this publication - and wrote a spec script for the series finale of Voyager (yes, you did read that correctly), printed on dot-matrix A4-sized paper with no brads!!!
Writing that first script felt incredibly natural. Of course, I had no idea about film/TV production at this point in my journey, but I was just incredibly pleased to have written a story for a show that I loved.
But, instead of writing more Star Trek, I wrote a feature film, then another, and then another. Then I started writing short films, and hanging out at Raindance events, trying to connect with producers and directors who could make them. I saw myself as a screenwriter. I pitched myself as a screenwriter. I was lucky enough to get a few jobs as a screenwriter.
But none of that explained why I wrote films. I enjoyed writing them. I enjoyed film as a medium, and I enjoyed writing those scripts (even if I didn’t necessarily enjoy working with some of the producers attached to them).
Then one day, I pivoted to television, and that became my all-consuming focus. I learned about the business and went through the ups and downs (mostly the latter) of trying to make it as a TV writer.
Each general or introductory meeting invariably touches on the question of why I write TV. My answers always spoke to the collaborative nature of writers rooms, the freedom that comes from working in a writers medium, and definitely did not mention the remuneration.
But was that true? Why did I really want to write TV?
TV writing is hard. There are hundreds of thousands of people competing for an unbelievably small number of jobs. Your writing has to be exceptional; you have to be exceptional. Being very good or even excellent is simply not enough. The competition is tough, frequently cut-throat, and often overflowing with unspoken privilege.
Rejection occurs frequently, and there are so many variables that need to align perfectly, it’s a small miracle that TV gets made at all.
As I sat there, reflecting about my journey, and my perspective on the creative industry, the question ate away at me, morphing into something else. The interrogator was no longer satisfied with the initial question, now it wanted to know more:
Why do I write TV? Why do I write films? Why do I write comics? Why do I write books?
I think it all ties back to Star Trek.
That was the show that captured my imagination. It transported me away from my lonely and misunderstood reality, to a future where curiosity and community were embedded in society in a way that felt alien, yet at the same time, completely familiar. It was a future I wanted to belong to; despite its challenges.
I was a loner, and I embraced the mystique of being the outcast, not necessarily because I wanted it, but because it was an identity I felt was forced upon me. My choices were to resist, or to embrace it, and I chose the latter.
But Star Trek challenged me. It showed me what agency looked like, even though I lacked the vocabulary to assimilate it at the time. It was a TV show that forced me to reflect on myself and my world through a different lens.
When I wrote that first spec script, I wasn’t just writing about characters. I was writing about different aspects of myself; all the pieces that I didn’t understand, or like, were made flesh in that process. I was somehow outside my own essence, isolating and manipulating my frailties. By forcing the characters to face the impossible, I realized how I could do the same.
It was therapy.
Writing was the process by which I could dissect and reassemble myself.
I have so many stories to tell, because I feel I don’t understand who I am. That’s why stories bleed out of me. That’s why I need to put them down on the page. I share them because I don’t believe I’m alone; that others are also confused and afraid. I don’t assume my stories will necessarily resonate in the same way with other people, but they may see enough to realize how to unpack their own understanding.
How many times had I offered a glib, or simplistic response to the question? Far too many to count. The truth was… the truth is… I’m scared of being honest with myself. Sometimes it’s easier and more comforting to live in a white lie and cosplay as a capable human. It’s easier to define yourself using labels and symbols than to stare deeply into the reflection.
I write in order to try and understand myself.
Part of me wants to be social and engaged in meaningful collaborative work; that’s the part of me that wants to write TV and make comics. The rest of me is insular and lonely, and that’s the part that wants to write features and books.
This may sound trivial to many of you, but I’ve always been drawn to working in different formats and genres. I’m not a writer who picks a lane and stays in it. I’m a writer who veers all over the road, and frequently goes off it – to the detriment of my career. It was only after doing this deep reflective work that I understood the reasons for why I write in multiple formats. It’s not for the money, although that would be nice, or the fame, or even to be able to work for myself. It’s not because it’s easy, or quicker. It’s because this is the only way to examine the different parts of myself.
I basically put all that in my letter of intent.
I’m 99% certain my application will again be rejected, but even so, the exercise alone was more than worth it.
Looks like I wasn’t the only one thinking about these things this week. Jim Zub also wrote a blog post on a similar issue.
Why do you write? What is it that compels you to put words on the page and then share them with others? Let me know in the comments below.
If this resonated with you or made you reflect about your own reason(s) for writing, that’s great. You can thank me by sharing this post and maybe even buy me a coffee by clicking the image below.
Horror giveaway
Like me, I know many of you are horror fans, and that makes this time of year particularly exciting, so let’s try to up the excitement level with a fabulous horror contest.
What are the prizes?
Print copies of Tender is the Flesh by Agustine Bazterrica, Till We Become Monsters by Amanda Headlee, Salem’s Lot by Stephen King, and What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher, plus a Freddy Kruger candle, Micheal Meyers coffee mug, spine candlestick, horror baddies bookmark collection, and a Redrum typewriter sticker!
To enter, simply click here or on the button below, and enter your email to be in with a shot to enter. Who doesn’t love to win horror books and merch? Best of luck to you!
Until next time, friends.