Why Write?

The days have passed, full of themselves, and it has been hard to squeeze in time to post. When I let time go by like that without posting, I begin to wonder why I write here at all. That’s how it works for writing, and I imagine for any creative endeavor. Life on earth does not lend itself to creativity; it sucks it away.

Writing this blog must come second to writing on my novel. I write on the novel every day, yet rarely does a day pass that I don’t ask myself why I am writing it, too. I took a day off from writing anything, and oh, my, the joy of extra hours to read!


This is a hurricane lily. They appear all over the area at this time of year. What caught my eye about this one is that it came up, alone, in an unkept area along a tree-lined, brush-filled fence row, where all manner of dead house plants and bushes have been thrown. I saw it quite by accident.

And this oxalis bloom, totally out of season, just popped up.

If a writer begins to wonder why she writes, she might as well ask why a flower blooms.