And the Reason I’m Doing This Is…

I'm not going to write and you can't make me.

I’m not going to write and you can’t make me.

I was recently very chuffed to learn that two of my stories had been picked up by New Zealand’s North & South Magazine as part their short, short story contest (less than 300 words) – one as a runner-up and the other as “highly commended”.  It was a totally encouraging boost.  But it also made me realize that I’m not used to people reading my work (apart from a select few and even then, in a very limited way which I control).  Of course, I’m not talking hordes gobbling up the magazine to get at my 600 words of prose, but still any increase from one or two readers is enormous.  This then brought me back to the age old question of why do writers write.  Some say that it’s a “necessity”, that they have “no choice”.  Well, I have a choice.  And there are times it’s a real struggle between writing and eating chips and watching Homeland (or, more likely, curling up with my e-reader).  And clearly I’m not choosing writing because of my readership relentlessly demanding more, so why do it?  Well, it is a lovely feeling when it’s going well, and while it’s not a necessity, I do feel a bit of a compulsion to tell a particular story in my particular way, and an audience, if it ever materializes, is nice, but at the end of the day, buggered if I really know.  Maybe I’ll watch another episode of Homeland

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