Those of us who write, do so for a variety of reasons. I know of people
who write entirely from a desire to make money. Others are driven to write
about themselves, to tell the world about their exciting, boring, amazing,
average, fantastic or mundane lives. Many are looking to put ideas into words,
to explain to the world why things are as they are. Some are impelled by a deep
desire to put things right, to educate those they see as unaware of what they
believe to be important factors. And some simply love the idea of telling
stories; entertaining, moving, amusing, scaring, arousing or exciting their
readers.
Johnson famously said that anyone who wrote other than for money was a
blockhead. I must be a blockhead, then. Money has never been a driver for me, in
writing or any other aspect of my life. It’s a necessary evil, of course, in
the commercial world we inhabit, but, as a driver, it’s empty and unfulfilling.
So, I’m happy if my books sell. But I’m happier still if people enjoy what I’ve
written.
I belong to that last class of writers in the first paragraph. But, and
it’s an important ‘but’, I’m also compelled to write. There is deep within me
the need to write. In fact, if I don’t write, don’t create something, on a
regular basis, I feel unwell and unsettled. It’s as if my creative needs begin
to pile up and block my channels to good health. I always feel better when I’ve
written something new. So, I guess you could say that I write because I have
to. But that doesn’t mean I see it as a duty or a chore.
I love words; always have. I love the way they can be played with to
bring about so many different reactions. I hate the misuse of words, the easy
option that results in cliché. Because I love words, as a tool and a means of
expressing and conveying emotion, I also read, of course. Frankly, any writer
who doesn’t read is doing both himself and his readers a disservice. How can
any craftsman improve without input from others?
My imagination is my greatest asset; it’s a thing almost apart from me,
feeding me with ideas and characters, situations and plots almost without any
conscious direction, it seems. Imagination is what forms the core of my
stories. But, as is always the case with anything of worth, there’s more than
one component involved in the making of my tales. I have drives that are formed
from a combination of my experiences, education, up-bringing, moral stance, interests
and relationships. Those with well-developed perceptual powers will be aware
that I care very much about justice, real love, fairness, intelligence,
creativity and talent. As a corollary, I naturally loathe injustice,
superficial attraction, ignorance, destructive force and dullness. These
aspects inform my writing.
But, I write mostly to entertain and amuse my readers. I want to move,
excite, shock, scare, arouse, anger, surprise, divert, cheer, sadden, jolt,
soothe and amaze. Of course, having a proselytising nature (many of those who
know me say I should have been a teacher), I also want to educate and persuade.
In my early writing, this desire to convert readers to my point of view
overrode the entertainment in my work. It took time for me to realise that
readers of fiction don’t want to be lectured. A writer has to be far more
subtle than the preacher standing in the pulpit before a congregation willing
to swallow his message. So, I now keep the themes that drive me as just that;
themes.
I’m fortunate in that I have a clever and honest wife who quickly spots
any movement toward my urge to preach. And my writing group, made up of
talented professional writers, never allow me to get away with anything that
even sniffs of the soapbox. I remain blissfully unaware of the times I use
language that might be considered pompous or even condescending. Because I left
school at 16 with few formal qualifications, I assume that my knowledge of
English is pretty average but, apparently, I sometimes use language in a way that certain readers might find difficult. It’s not deliberate, but stems from a desire to
combine accuracy with a concise style. So, sometimes, the intervention of my
chosen critics helps overcome a tendency to use language that might otherwise
be seen as ‘clever’, never an intention but sometimes an outcome.
So, I write out of an almost physical need combined with a love of words
and of the power of story to convey emotion. What drives you to write? I’d love
to know. Please go to the trouble of commenting. It’s really very easy.
