I’ve heard other writers say, “I write because I have to. ” A lot. And maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s some universal truth among writers. I even used to buy it of myself. But I don’t anymore.

I’ve had dry spells where I wasn’t writing. Turns out, I didn’t self-implode or shrivel up or anything equally horrible. I survived. I’m here writing this to prove it.

But what I do know is that when I’m creating, I’m happier. I’m more alive. And I see the world more poetically. Things are more magical. Those things of value are amplified and those of insignificance are diminished. And I know, intuitively, that it’s just a better way to live.

I think I must be an artist first, and a writer second. If my talents lent themselves more to music, I would have followed that path. I think we must all find that one thing that makes us burn with life and follow that thing, with a vengeance. If we could all do that, I’m certain the world would be a better place.