I have to get some of the things in my head out. Some things flow like scenes from a movie, other things are a powerful explosion of volcanic creativity that ,though it is hard to understand, still creates the need to create.
I write because the world is boring. Sure, there is excitement, but not like what there could be. We have no proven magick, no honest to goodness monsters or mythological creatures or beings, nothing. The closest thing we have is ,depending on your religion, a version of God or some group of Gods, that all we can do is simply have faith. But, when writing...All the doors to every possibility fly open, and with such force, the doors tear down the walls leaving you completly outside in the realm of potential and possibility.
I consider myself at least a little crazy, and I figure that everyone that is ceative in some way probably is a little crazy too. And, it is this crazyness that drives, urges us, pushes, prods, and coaxes us out of or shell to make something new. This furtive passion becomes an undeniable tidal wave, that if left unchecked will wash us away. LEaving nothing but a barren mindscape.
Well, if anything that's how I see it, and that's how it is for me. If I tired to flat stop and go cold turkey on writing, or singing or drawing or any other creative outlet I have, I would pain and simply go insane. End of story. There would be nothing left, but a nice warm white jacket with some long sleeves and a real cozy room with squishy walls. Being a writer is what I have to do. I can't quite it, it's just too addictive.