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Why I Write

We ask our new authors to blog about this question as part of joining House of Honor Books. If you scroll down the posts, you’ll find I answered it when we started this blog. So, why cover this ground again? First of all, the ground, or at least, my view of it has changed somewhat. The other reason is that I have learned to laugh at myself.


Here are my revised seven reasons why I write.


I write because I must in order to be happy. When I’m not writing, I can be –well, there are so many words people use to describe me in that state—let’s pick “unsociable” because some of the words are not appropriate for a public setting. There’s no real magic to it. Writing stories is what I like to do. I can daydream and live in an imaginary world while truthfully telling people that I’m working.


The voices tell me to. Only they’re not just voices in my head, they are my imaginary, invisible friends and they have some pretty good ideas. Once when my little dog was having a yapping fit, this Ed guy that I’d never met before said, “What if there really is a monster on the other side of that door?” Then he told me the story, I wrote it down, and we called it Bayou Moon.


Writing is part of my faith. I left the pulpit to go to nursing school with plans to be a hospice nurse as well as a hospice chaplain. The government got into the hospice business about the time I graduated and ended that notion. But the callings of God are without repentance. He gives them forever and won’t let you walk away. My writing never strays too far from my faith in Christ. It’s preaching without being preachy and more people pay attention nowadays.


I have a glass of wine when I write. I think that’s self-explanatory.


I only work when I want to, and even so it pays better than preaching. People don’t realize that there are a thousand poor preachers for every rich one. (I made that statistic up, but I’m honest about it.) The real problem comes when I really want to write and can’t. I’m at somewhat of a disadvantage here because I have a one-track mind and often have multiple things that need to be done.


People told me I can’t. I probably will never get rich writing. I won’t get my picture on the cover of Writer’s Digest (or The Rolling Stone). I may have no talent but tell me I can’t—that it’s all a pipe dream and I’ll stay up late trying to prove you wrong. Did I mention that I can be stubborn and spiteful? Hard to imagine, I know.


But, the #1, all-time world champion reason I write is because I want people to read my stories. Everywhere I go, I tell people about my books. I carry my books around with me just in case somebody I meet wants one. I give some away to folks down on their luck or just plain old dirt poor like I used to be. I’ll stand up in front of people and read my work if they let me. I go to every fair, festival, and business that I can to set up a table and hawk my stories. I do that because I want people to read them. That’s why I wrote them. I would give them away if I could find someone who would print an unlimited supply of books for nothing. Well, maybe not, because when a person plunks down $15 to read one of my books that says they think what I have to say is worth something.




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