I do not choose to write. I have to write–even when it hurts…

I write in order to find myself.

I write in order to grow.

I write in order to make sense of my life.

But most of all, I write in order to keep myself honest–to put the veracity and spirit of all my thinkings, feelings, believings, and doings on trial.

I write because it’s faster, cheaper, more convenient, and—at least for me—far more honest and penetrating than psychotherapy.

As such, writing is sometimes my best friend. Sometimes my only friend.

I write to challenge the sludge of religious, political, nationalistic, cultural, social, and economic nonsense bullshit that engulfs us all.

I write to glean the signal from the noise.

I write to find hope in moments of despair, clarity in moments of confusion, and courage in moments of dread.

I write to connect with others.

I write to connect with the future, should my words survive me.

I write because I have the deepest reverence for words.

I write because I love words.

I write because words matter.

And this makes writing a very serious business.