Why do we write?

It may well be the simplest question to ask a writer, and yet, if it elicits a response at all, usually it’s vague, amorphous and rather unformed. Mostly because there are a great many reasons why writers pursue the art and craft of writing: catharsis, expression of ideas, to tell stories, because they are not fit to pursue any other line of work, to explore grandiose ideas, or to make a living.

The very first issue of Professor Barnhardt’s Journal addressed this very question to a whole host of writers, including Roger Ebert, Tod Goldberg and John Scalzi (Lawrence Block’s response was once there, but seems to have mysteriously disappeared; too bad, because it was really an interesting one) elicited some interesting responses.

John Rickards takes a far more pointed approach, questioning whether any writer can truly say he or she is writing for any impulse other than the pursuit of publication, and if there is such a thing as a “calling”:

Any writer claiming ‘calling’ should ask themselves: if you had the choice between having your masterpiece edited by a publisher, or rejecting their changes and instead giving it away for free, say online – disseminating it to as many people as you can, for nothing, just to get your vision, your story, out there, which would you do?

…You write something that means a lot to you, you don’t really care how many get to read it and it wouldn’t matter to you if you stuck it online for free or gave it to whoever wanted it, so you take the first contract that comes along because it doesn’t matter to you – it’s a bonus for doing something that means a lot to you. Fine.

You treat it in the manner of a professional, you look at the money, or the sales, or the promotion, or the attention from your editor, and you’re doing it because it’s a way of earning a living, or supplementing a living. Not to say you don’t enjoy it, you don’t put a shitload of care and attention into it – of course you do – but you’re not just doing it for the fun of it any more.

It’s not art. It’s just a cool way to earn a living.

Further response, and other talking points, after the jump.

Although I don’t necessarily agree with all of John’s points as set out in this post, I have always admired those writers who are up-front about writing for the sake of making a living. Lee Child comes to mind in that he’s never made apologies for the fact that the impulse to write novels was born out of being laid off and needing to do something to change his financial fortunes. And did he ever, as each Jack Reacher novel has sold better than the last and he’s pretty well established as a bestselling writer. So why make additional pretensions when he’s more or less achieving exactly what he set out to do, and lives according to a standard of living he likes? Granted, that everything together as well as it did for him required a mixture of hard work, determination and some well-placed luck, but still–ultimately it’s about professional pursuits, and making a living.

But very, very few writers can even entertain the possibility of making a living at writing, or more specifically, writing fiction (since writing non-fiction requires different thought patterns and muscles, as I know firsthand.) So there have to be additional forces propelling the writer, since "publication" and "making a living" are two completely separate ideas.  Gerald So develops this further, suggesting that perhaps a better word to use is "vocation":

I think of writing as more than my job. I’ve had jobs stuffing envelopes, handing out fliers, sorting triplicate forms. Writing is my vocation. The word vocation is rooted in the Latin "to call," so there is a concession to inspiration; however, vocation can also mean "A regular occupation, especially one for which a person is particularly suited or qualified" (American Heritage Dictionary, 4th ed.), or "a particular occupation or profession, especially one regarded as needing dedication and skill" (AllWords.com). Both these definitions are ordinary enough to satisfy the grunt in me.

Semantics aside, I think ultimately the reasons for getting started, the reasons for staying the course, the reasons for pursuing publication and for staying published may be the same or they may be different. Perhaps my favorite answer to the question of Why was given by Pauline Moreau, the heroine of Janine Boissard’s phenomenally selling saga L’ESPRIT DE FAMILLE. Pauline, as a teen, was an aspiring writer at loose ends with a predilection for romances with men far older than herself. In the fourth volume, MOI, PAULINE! (translated in English as A TIME TO CHOOSE) she visits the apartment of her idol, mentor and later husband, Paul. He is older, crippled, and bitter at the world, and not happy to see this upstart journalism student peppering him with stupid questions. Finally, she delivers a changeup:

"Why do you write?"

Paul was taken aback by the question. Without thinking, he replied, "To keep from dying."

I first read those translated words when I was thirteen. I’ve read A TIME TO CHOOSE (my French was never that good to read the books in their original French) many times since then, and for whatever reason, that exchange burned itself into my brain. It might be cheesy and rather melodramatic, but there is something so fundamental about the response that it spoke to me. At that time, I only entertained hazily vague notions of serious writing, but in its own way, that expression explains–in part–why I keep at it.

So what are your reasons, your response to the question? Are they practical, personal, artistic or professional? Or a mix of all sorts of things?