Writers Write


Not everyone who blogs is a writer. I mean, obviously everyone is a writer of some sort if they are taking the time to write a blog. Right? Bloggers blog for different reasons- each personal and specific to themselves and their lives. Not everyone who has a blog is doing it to write though. The foodie might really only want to share his or her fantastic concoction with the world. A book lover could get deep satisfaction from reviewing books to introduce them to other avid readers. And along with sharing their passion with the world, they have to write. 


Then there are WRITERS. If you are a writer, you know it. Being a writer has nothing to do with being published. It has to do with writing. Plain and simple.

I write because if I didn’t, I would go crazy. I have been writing as long as I can remember. I wrote a series as a teenager. It’s horrible. Embarrassing, really. My goal is to re-write the entire series as it should be written. Someday… But anyway, I wrote these stories- handwritten on notebook paper that is yellowing and smells sort of musty. My teen age handwriting probably reveals more about me at that age than I would like to remember. I love those stories, as awful as they are. Why? Because of the characters in them. Those were my first “babies”. And when I look at those stories, even after all these years, in my head they jump to life. I did not do them justice on paper. I’ve got an enormous undertaking lying ahead.

When I moved out of my parents’ house, I packed my stories up in a box and lugged it along with all of my worldly possessions. That box followed me everywhere until the last move, 18 years ago. We piled all the boxes in the garage when we moved in and it took us months, years really, to go through them. Some are still sitting out there- nothing more than trash at this point but once important enough to schlep from apartment to apartment to condo to house. I went looking for my stories about 15 years ago. I searched all the key storage spots in the house. It was only as I was running out of places to look that complete and utter panic set in. 

I asked my husband if he knew where the box was. He asked if I remembered what it looked like. My answer? “Brown. Square.” How do I know? I had packed it 10 years ago! My panic was mounting. No doubt about it. 

He made a half-hearted search in the garage and then mirrored my steps through the house. He was a little slow to clue in to how much this was upsetting me. When I snapped at him, he was truly caught off guard. He didn’t know how much writing meant to me. How much those silly stories meant to me. “You’re acting like you lost your children,”

file1801281015946He looked around as our three went about their business at approximate ages- 8, 6, and 3. I could see it written on his face. He didn’t need to say a word. 

I tried to compose myself and explain that those stories were so much a part of me. That just like the kids were part of me, my stories were, too. A different part. He doesn’t write. He doesn’t get it. But he did understand that I wouldn’t rest until I located that box. We did find the box. It was more rectangular than square and taller than I remembered. Now the stories sit in binders on the shelf above my desk where I can keep a close eye on them. 

WRITERS write because they can’t stop the words. There are stories all around them. They are inspired by a snatch of overheard dialogue between strangers. They see entire stories in the way two people interact in a public place. Characters and/or plots will pop into their heads from absolutely nowhere! They have scraps of paper with one or two words that sparked some idea. And the more they write, the more inspired they become. They write and then go back and re-write or delete or move around everything they’ve written. They stare at a screen or piece of paper playing with those words to make them fit right. And if they are like me, they are always mentally editing everything they see- looking for grammar or spelling errors….

Because if they don’t write, the words pile up and start crushing at each other in their need to be heard. They love the feel of creating a really good sentence. They feel a connection to words- the rhythm, flow, patterns, context. It’s deep in their souls- an intimate part of them that they are putting down on paper (or a screen). 


Writers write because they don’t know how not to write. It’s who they are. It’s what they are. Writers write. 


This post was inspired by ‘Rissa, who has been working on a very important piece and I suspect knows what I’m talking about. 🙂


15 thoughts on “Writers Write

  1. Hi Kat. We met via Twitter (actually, I believe via MondayBlogs) a few weeks back, and I just now seized an opportunity to read some of your work. Your page is laid out well — I love the date tabs! I just read two posts of yours. Both phenomenal. I relate completely to this one that I am commenting off of. I’ve come to realize that if I never become well known as a writer, if I never reach the acclaim of some authors that I admire and respect, it really won’t matter. What would matter, what would make me unhappy is to stop writing. As long as I am writing something every week, that is all that matters to me. I wish I could have an actual conversation with you about writing, as your post just resonated so loudly and strongly with me. Anyhow, I want to sit here and just read everything of yours. But reality pulls me back to housework and my daughter. I’ll be back! You’re wonderful. Getting your unique perspective (such as what I gleaned about your child, Kris) is wonderful.


    1. Oh wow, thank you! I do remember you. 🙂 I am still figuring out Twitter and I just left it hanging there for awhile. I’ve been trying to fit it into my routine- somewhere after facebook and Pinterest and long before I’m goofing off on ebay!

      I totally get what you’re saying about being happy as long as you’re writing. That’s how I am. Although I have always been writing, this blog is my first attempt to share my writing with anyone else. I’m still skittish about my family reading my writing.

      It sounds like we have a lot in common. We are definitely of the same mind set! 🙂 I’m so glad to hear from you and I’m really happy to have come across another writer. I look forward to talking more with you!


      1. I took my own time with Twitter, too. (Turns out, I like it a bit better than Facebook.)

        I’m also skittish about family reading it. There are certain things that I want to write about, but have held back for that reason.

        I feel as though I have always been writing, too. As a teenager, I spent many hours in my room composing poetry instead of doing my homework.

        I’m always happy to come across another writer, as well, especially one that is happy to connect with me. Indeed, lets talk more.


      2. a-HEM!!! (wasn’t that post titled somethingerother about writing and writers??? )

        giggles…I just thought perhaps absurdity would free you from the absurd who yammer, clabber and claptrabble around you like the whos in whoville with their “Noise! Noise! Noise!”



      3. Haha…. yes it was something about writing…. My tentative journeys into writing poetry have been limited and awful. It’s not my arena. I’m much better at rambling with no form at all.


  2. Love this! I don’t consider myself a writer, but I really enjoyed reading your feelings about this. How wonderful that you still have the series you wrote as a teenager!! I hope you do rewrite it someday. 🙂


    1. Thanks! And I hope I do, too. It will be a major undertaking- close to writing a brand new series. It’s that bad. But I love it all the same! 🙂


  3. Oh Kat I LOVE this! Of course I am blushing and secretly very pleased with the dedication… But Omg some of those lines above, such as “…Because if they don’t write, the words pile up and start crushing at each other in their need to be heard. They love the feel of creating a really good sentence. They feel a connection to words- the rhythm, flow, patterns, context. It’s deep in their souls- an intimate part of them that they are putting down on paper (or a screen)…”

    WOWSA. Great stuff, Sis


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