Why do we write? What do we write about? I have thought about this a lot and still haven’t a clear answer. There are probably as many answers as there are writers.
For me there was a story that developed almost without my will. The doubts were all on my end. The story hadn’t any. Yet the world was of my making. I set the rules by which it operated. The creative process was unconscious yet there was planning. The whole writing experience has enigmatic qualities. It is exhilarating, frustrating and humbling.
Please weigh in. I would love to hear from you. There are times I have absolutely no answers. Perhaps you have some?