I write because it fills me up. I don't know how, exactly, I'm no scientist. But each word is a little scoop of something delicious, a dribbling ice cream cone, a sweetness, that fills something inside of me that nothing else really can. I am hungry and bored without it. Yes, I could go without, I could stop and still be content and happy, maybe pick up painting or knitting or buy a motorcycle, writing is not an addiction or a necessity, it is not my water, although it feels that way sometimes, but why would I want to stop feeding myself wonderful words and stories? Writing allows me to view the world in wild, unusual, and nonstandard ways. It's like that giant dial-thing that looks like glasses fit for an owl, of which I do not know the technical term, at the eye doctor's office. The doctor clicks the little thingie and says, "What's better? One or two?" And as she clicks, your vision changes. What's better, writing or not writing? I could get by without it but the world will always look a little stilted, a little blurry, not quite as sharp.
Writing has led me to great, great books that I might have otherwise thrown to the back burner. I'm constantly binging on words. I've found a new love for flash fiction. I'm searching for my voice. I'm always searching. I may never get published. I may never be validated as a writer. That's not what I need. I am happy without those things. I have always been happy in the shadows and that, knowing myself a bit, will never change.
Writing fills me up. I continue to eat, eat, eat until my mind is bloated.
Why do you write? If you knew for certain that you would never get published, would you still do write?