Why do I write?

In a guest blog on "Murder *by* Four," Aaron Paul Lazar posed the question, "What motivates you to write?" He lists any number of possible reasons but says that if you simply write to sell a book, you're headed toward disappointment. Since I'm in that dilemma about my writing right now, the question really hit me. I asked my friend Jean today why she weaves--she does these beautiful intricate things with the tiniest threads you've ever seen--and she said she thought she knew. But since she had to reschedule our today's lunch for Wednesday I said we'd talk about it then. That does not, of course, mean that I've given up rattling the topic around in my brain.

I think primarily I write because I can't imagine not writing. I get a bit at odds when I don't have a project on my desk (read now). But, yes, I want to see what I write published. I'm not of the mind that can write, read it with satisfaction, and tuck it away in a closet. So there's a bit of--what?--vanity? involved. No I don't expect to make money, but that's not the same. I've never made much money in spite of all I've written, and I don't aspire to be John Grisham, Sue Grafton, J. A. Jance, Ruth Reichl, or any of the others of my favorite writers. I'm happy with small press and academic press publication. So then comes the questions, why write mysteries? The best answer I can think of is that I get a lot of pleasure being lost in a good mystery, and I'd like to be able to create something that would give others that pleasure. But then ego creeps in again--I think I can do a better job than some of the so-so mysteries I read. I really guess you can't be a writer without an ego. Since I think I'm not egotistoca; in other aras of my life and in fact have a shy side that stays hidden a lot, I think maybe writing is where my ego lives and probably that's healthy.


Fictional mysteries about real-life historical characters are a big deal these days--witness the Jane Austen books and any number of others--and sometimes I think that's where I belong. I have one in mind, but it would take a lot of research--it's an idea that I've played with off and on for several years and, of the possibilities I've come up with in my mind, it's the one that keeps making more sense. I'd just have to buckle down and do the necessary hard work--twenty years ago, working full time and with a houseful of teenagers, such hard work wasn't a problem. Do we really lose that fire as we age? I hope night. I still haven't tried Susan's creative thinking exercise yet, but it might help me.


Meantime I've had a non-writing day. PIddled and did housework all morning--oops, I still have laundry to fold! Went to Jordan's for lunch (carrying my own sandwich and a small bag of hearts of palm). She was home all day with Jacob because he had a slight fever this morning. Except for a brief sinking spell, he seemed fine while I was there. She offered me hummus, which I ate, not realizing how many points it adds. Plus a meatloaf sandwich (who can resist wen there's cold meatloaf in the fridge) and I had to eat a salad tonight to save myself from going way way over the points. None of the tuna I planned.


I'm still pondering, but I will say watching Alton Brown in the kitchen without the sound on is an interesting experience!