So in my process to try and get back in writing health, I’ve been trying to figure out why I write. And my instant response is always to tell my character’s stories, but I’d never really noticed before that it doesn’t ring true. Why do their stories need to get out there? And writing it out sounds ridiculous, but it’s as simple as:


Now try not to lose your eyes in the back of your head there. Magic that exists in Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings, or Narnia, doesn’t exist in this world, you don’t have to tell me twice. But reading those stories gives people hope and faith.

When I was in fourth grade (before I dropped out of elementary school), I managed to convince all of my classmates — from the most cynical bullies, to the arrogant popular girl — that Santa Claus existed. Maybe not him himself, but that there was magic to Christmas night, and sometimes stuff happened that you can’t explain, and that’s wonderful, and that was proof for all of us. It made us a little more giddy, a little more happy, and we all felt better for it.

Diana Wynne Jones does this with every one of her books. It’s why she’s one of my favorite authors. I finish a DWJ book and I feel like the world’s just a little shifted, has just a little more potential for something amazing to happen. Maybe not a unicorn trotting across the road, but just something. Because adulthood sucks, and has grounded me more than when I was a kid, and I know I’m not going to find a real dragon egg under the Christmas tree any year.

But I still daydream about it, and I still smile about it. And that’s the point. My stories aren’t all happy, aren’t all that sunshine and roses, but they’re struggle, and they’re magic and they’re faith because I think that we need those to survive. We need to see and feel something more than us. There’s nothing more sad than meeting someone that doesn’t have any hold on their dreams anymore, on people who are grounded and slogging through life.

So I that’s why I write. Just to bring just a touch of magic into the world, to give it all I can despite the crap it throws at me.

Why do you write?

Bacon, out.


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