With all the thinking I’ve been doing on how to write, I haven’t covered much about why I write. And while I am still hammering through plots and characters, every now and then I have to remind myself why I’m sitting with my laptop, pouring time and energy into something intangible.
I came to a realization last night, after reading and watching some excellent seminars on plot and originality. I realized that it’s okay for me to pour myself into the book’s main character. There’s nothing wrong with using my own experiences if it makes for a more convincing story.
This not only gives me some freedom in not having to worry about making the “perfect” character, it allows me to write what I know. If I write a character that has had hip surgery, I know how to write that. I know what it feels like, I know how to describe it. If my character plays the guitar, I know how to describe that, I know what that feels like. And that’s not a bad thing.
There’s always the danger that I could write him as a “Mary Sue” i.e. a vessel for wish-fulfillment. But there’s a fine line between “wish fulfillment” and “make a character that looks like me do awesome stuff.” The latter makes a good story; the former does not.
But… back to the “why.”
Why do people write? To tell a story. Why do they want to tell a story? There’s a few reasons:
- To impact the reader emotionally
- To be creative and use their imagination
- To remember an event (real or imagined)
- To engage the reader intellectually
- To entertain the reader
There’s other motivations as well. But really, for me to enjoy writing, I have to know my motivation. I need to hold on to what drives me, what pushes me forward. What is in my brain that makes me want to put words on paper?
I’d be lying if I said my faith in God didn’t form a big chunk of it. There’s a part of me that wants to be a famous writer, sure, but I know that’s probably not going to happen. More realistically, I know that God has brought me through some interesting trials and tribulations, and taught me a lot of hard lessons. And of course, that tends to change a man.
I don’t want to shove those lessons down a reader’s throat (unlike the current prog-political garbage they call “fiction” nowadays). I want to make a character who knows what I know, who’s learned what I’ve learned, who can make mistakes that get resolved by the end of the book.
I want to pour myself out on the page, to wring out every last drop of agony and joy I’ve experienced into a tangible form you can hold in your hands. I want people to enjoy reading it, and feel the passion with which it was forged, through blood and tears and laughter.
I want to write a book that my grandchildren can read, and understand me a little better with. Because sometimes when I write I glimpse into my soul, and sometimes I don’t like what I see there. I want them to see the imaginary world through my eyes, as it could be, not as it is.
Ultimately for me, book sales would be nice, so far as to allow me to spend more time writing. But really, that’s just a means to an end. I enjoy writing, and I want to leave my best on the table, for what it’s worth.
I’ve been given the unquenchable desire to write, so I write. Whatever God decides to use it for, I’m fine with. I’ll go through the usual channels for learning how the industry works, but ideally, I’d like to be picked up by a small publishing house, so I can concentrate on the art of Writing, and not worry about spending countless hours slogging through sales reports.
What drives me? My passion for life. My love for fantastic, supernatural stories. My desire to honor God. My craving to capture people’s imagination.
When you put those together, it’s a compelling argument.