Okay, it turns out not to be bad, just a three hundred word (Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!) thingamabob about an activity I enjoy. I can handle that, right? Right. But seriously, folks. So, something I enjoy? Reading. Nah. Dry subject, that one. Writing about reading. You probably wouldn't enjoy that much. Writing. Writing? Now wait a sec, that might just work. Yeah. Although it sounds really funny, writing about writing. No wait, this is better: To compose a composition about composing compositions! Poetic, isn't it? There are about a billion-gazillion (is that a real number?) reasons why I love to write, but for the sake of your sanity (and mine), I'll give you three.
First off, there's the dream that you'll get something published. Secondly, it's very relaxing. Very. Except for the hand cramp, that is. Thirdly, it's so much fun to play God with other people's lives.
Ah. The Great American Dream. Becoming insanely rich and famous and squandering all your not-so-hard-earned earnings on flashy sports cars, garish clothes made from dead animals, and a really cute trophy wife (or husband). Everyone wants to be rich and famous to the point where your name is a household word and what better way to do this than by doing something you love? For some, basketball, singing, acting, or flaunting stupidity for the entertainment of others works.
For me, however, it's writing. There's nothing I'd rather do. I'm just a natural born chatter, and once those jaw muscles are so stiff you've got to eat through a straw, written words are the next best thing. There's less wear and tear on the teeth, too.
Now, by nature, I'm a very lazy person. I go outside maybe three times a year, and that's only when my parents literally through me out of the house so they can get some peace and quiet (and some well-earned nap time on the couch). So what better way to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon than lazing upstairs with the lights off and the fan on, scrawling in notebook after notebook about far off places that don't exist? I can't think about any other way that I'd rather spend a day.
It's also a really great way to blow off steam if you're really angry with someone. Of course, if you use your novellas for that, things tend to get a little gory. Plus, you tend to kill off a whole lot more bit characters.
Finally, when you're writing a book, everything is your way. You're the merciless, violent Zeus (or Hera, in my case) who the little characters cower in fear from. It's a great way to subtly get back at people, and to change reality. Say someone cuts you off in traffic. In your next short story, some brat who runs a red light ends up in agory traffic accident, the result of which being a really nasty cranial-rectal inversion. Or, let's pretend there's this guy who you absolutely love, but he scorns you pitilessly. In the next vignette, a tall, dark stranger and a girl who seems suspiciously like you end up together forever. Beautiful, right?
So, I'm sure you can see why writing is the one for me. Although, usually I'm a little more sarcastic about it. But the money, the power, and the tranquility really make things work for me.
