I started writing because my mom is a writer. She wrote for a trade magazine in the toy industry. When I was a kid, we’d get bags full of teddy bears for free and VIP trips to sesame place every summer, So basically, I decided my mom had the coolest job ever, and obviously I should do it, too.
I studied writing because I was good at it. Words come easily to me. When I was 18 and off to college, I wanted nothing more than to take the easy way out.
I continued writing because I wanted to remember every hilarious, insane moment when my life started moving too fast. I couldn’t keep up, but I knew I had a story to tell — even when life spiraled out of control. Even when everything fell apart.
I continued writing because I’ve met some beautiful people along the way. I am fascinated by everyone. I see a character and a story when most people only see a face and a body. Watching my friends succeed, struggle, fail miserably, fall down hard, get back up, and keep going inspired me to write their stories.
I continued writing because I lost someone I fell in love with. We were both 25. He didn’t get a chance to finish his story, so I will tell it for him.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has a voice.
Every story should be told and every voice should be heard.
Sometimes it’s hard to find the right words. But as Jack Kerouac said:
This is why I write today.