This is the question—the question I’m most frequently asked when friends find out I’ve written a book. I’ll admit, sometimes I ask myself this too.

The answer?

No, I wasn’t bored. No, I’m not trying to check something off my bucket list. No, I’m not looking for a way to avoid my family. The simple answer is: I thought of a great story to tell—and once the idea clawed its way into my brain, it wasn’t about to let go.

So I wrote it.

While doing so, I discovered what drives me to write is the same thing that drives me to read: Love of a great story, vivid characters, and the chance to be immersed in a different reality. It’s a sometimes heartbreaking, always entertaining, typically satisfying escape. It gives me an outlet from reality, a momentary ‘opt out’, and when I resurface I’m more than when I left. I’m more connected to life, more focused on what makes it beautiful, more appreciative of the characters surrounding me, the plots unfolding, the daily victories.

Simply, I live more fully by writing.

 

Maybe being possessed isn’t so bad after all…