#MFRWauthor 52 Week Blog Challenge Blog Hop.
I wasn’t in the mood to do this post this week, but I’m trying to keep up with the 52 Week Challenge, though I have missed posting some weeks and I’ll probably miss again. This topic is important to me. WHY I WRITE.
I jotted down a few thoughts during the week, and decided I had a post. I’m still nearly incapacitated from a hip/back injury, but luckily sitting is not too bad, and I’m trying to rest it to see if it improves. It’s been a week with no improvement. Life still has to go on. My dog still has to be fed and be taken out. I’m doing the best I can.
Topic for Week 26: Why I write
This should be easy for me because I’ve been doing it for so long, but I had to sit and really think about it. There are many reasons I write. I’ll list them in no particular order.
I can’t NOT write. That’s right. If I’m not writing, I feel like something is missing. I’ve been like this for as long as I remember, but when I began writing full time, it became a habit I don’t want to break. Maybe I’m obsessed now, but I’m having fun. Yes, writing is fun! 🙂
Stories and characters live in my head. I write to get the stories out of my head. Oher writers understand. If you’re a reader, think of the book you’re reading now—or one you love to read over and over as if you are living it. Are those characters in your mind calling you back to finish the story? Do you picture the setting? Think of what happens next? While you’re busy during the day, do you wish you could get back to it?
Then you finish the book and move on to the next one! ❤
Well, imagine you are the person who created that story and have lived with that setting and those characters day in and day out, hour after hour, to guide them on their journey for sometimes a year or more. Not to mention these characters don’t sleep much.
This one is an important reason for me—I write for the readers waiting for the next book and for the readers who tell me to keep writing. Believe me, readers, I wish I could write faster for you.
I write because I like to spend time with my characters and the settings I’ve created. It’s true! I miss my characters after I’ve published the book.
Self-satisfaction. Sure, I hire editors, a formatter, and a cover designer, but I get self-satisfaction from having the power over creating a complete book.
I write to survive financially. This is true. Without my book royalties, I wouldn’t be able to survive on my own, and there is no one I have to live with. In fact, my rent will jump thirty dollars in August. Ouch. Good thing I write because I can’t not write.
Thanks for reading another post for the Blog Hop. Jump on over to see why the other authors write. Are there similarities between us? For some reason I can no longer paste the whole list into my blog. Please CLICK HERE. Thanks!
Nope, this isn’t Saturday, but it’s a snippet. Read down far enough you’ll find it after a bit of whining. I’ve attempted to write a post all week, but I’ve been living in pain since last Friday, and each day seems worse than the one before. Due to my own stupidity, I injured my back and hip by doing something, well, stupid. The worse part is I knew better than to lift the two extremely heavy blue shopping bags at the same time. I knew better than to try to move a huge, filled ceramic planter on my patio. I rolled, not lifted it, but the bending over position while moving it did me in, I guess.
It feels like it did when I ruptured two disks in my back and suffered from Sciatica some years ago and missed six months of work. It wasn’t until I had a steroid shot in my back, that I found relief and life began again. At this point, I can’t stand and/or walk for even five minutes without pain, and I have to sit down, which means I can’t walk into my doctor’s office, which is a long walk from the parking lot.
Today I decided to post a snippet from 
with until last month returned to the forefront. Enough of this. She stomped on the gas pedal and took the speed up to sixty, and she wasn’t comfortable driving like this on rutted Rocky Road.
Glass shattered as he busted the window with the butt of the rifle. Glass covered her. Her cheek stung. “Get your ass out of there, Roxanne.”
Mary J. McCoy-Dressel 
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