Write because intentional ambiguities are beautiful–when they mean something.

Write because in writing you can act out your insanities in the sanest of ways.

Write because you desperately seek and fear the pat on the back.

Write because you can’t stand not knowing what’s going on in the minds and lives of others, so you make it up.

Write because the idea of legacy is appealing, if even if it lasts only for a generation and the only people who care are children–your’s, if you have them.

Write because you think it’s the only thing you’re good at. Who cares if anyone else thinks differently–they have their biases, too.

Write because you’re good with words, even if you have nothing important to say. Someday, out of nowhere, you will. (Cleverness will get you by in between times.)

Write because you can craft plots like Scheherazade, even if your word coining skills feel counterfeit. Eventually, you’ll earn the keys to the mint.

Write because, if you don’t, all you have is Potential (a word that should be tied in a gunny sack and dropped into the Columbia at midnight from the middle of the Interstate bridge).

Write because it’s the best way to explore what it’s like to be bipolar.

(Why’dya do it? What led ya to it? See the series at http://whywewriteseries.wordpress.com/.)

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