#Why I write

[mr-story]

Yea! See? Once people realize this, our co-existence becomes so much easier. I jump from one game to another. And if two things intrest me...I merge them.....somehow!

the bad part of autism they don't talk about is that sometimes hyperfixation does become an exclusive thing. yeah sorry nothing else exists for me right now. "didn't you say you were going to do things" yeah but my brain is having tunnel vision

[quillver]

Why we write.

Because something happened, and silence makes it louder.

Because if you don’t put it down, it sits in you wrong.

Not to be clever.

So it doesn’t tear through the quiet you built around it.

[spectrenun]

Joan Didion | Why I write

[carinelian]

my coffee is good today, i'm rereading my old wip, and listening to the old playlist that drove that whole project to the finish line.

remembering why i started, i once thought, would have to come in a pivotal moment of my career: bagging an accomplishment, receiving critical acclaim, or making a name for myself.

who would've thought that it comes to me in a simple, cloudy Saturday, with feelings in my chest that says: i made you write before, darling. i'll make you write about me again.

[riverofthought]

[enormous-moose]

I don't think people understand how much I distrust others.

On the infinitely rate occasion, When someone tells me im pretty, someone gives me any kind of compliment, or when someone tries to reach out to talk to me I always think there's an ulterior motive. Because how can what they are saying be true? Ive always been told the opposite, im not interesting or anything.

Im not pretty, im not interesting, im not someone people want to talk to and im not worth complimenting. I know these facts and thats why I don't talk to other people.

Other people deserve more compliments than me and so I give it to them. I don't expect anything in return but I want to build people up because Ive never been built up. I know how it feels to go unanswered and feel like youre not good enough so I try to be better than what ive experienced.

Where does this come from? My family. I thought id have fun making videos on TikTok and they made fun of me saying I eat soup weird or drink from a straw weird. I shouldn't show my feelings to the world because its stupid. My ideas for content is stupid. I think im enjoying things for a while until finally the only feedback I get is from my family who days im awkard, stupid, lame, silly. So of course thats what I think of myself.

Its better for me to be ignored now. At least ignored and away from everyone is won't be that stupid person.

I have no friends. No one to talk to about this so I'll be fine. Just going to sit here emerging myself in my fake worlds where I don't exist and better more put together people find happiness with others. My family doesn't know i write. That's a part of me I never want to have destroyed. My worlds need me and I need them.

This is why I write.

[quotelr]

I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure in everyday life.

George Orwell, Why I Write

[remembertheplunge]

So, why do I write then?

Above is a photo of my December 8, 2021 journal entry. The typed version of the entry follows:

12/8/2021. 1:09pm Upstairs. Preservation Coffee House

So, why do I write, then? It's really not about you, future reader. It's more about embracing the phenomenon of basic being--catching existence on the fly. Any point in time, any "now"---is a potential integration opening.

[tales-from-nocturnaliss]

This week on @creators-club!

I'm probably gonna write a few of these throughout the week, in between celebrating 15 years together with husband on 11/02, but. The writer brain never stops.

And the first inspiration I want to talk about is the inspiration that started me on the Fantasy writer's pathway:

(you wouldn't believe how hard it was to google the cover of the version I own <<)

I was still a teen with a growing love for the English language (note I am natively French speaking, with Dutch next-to-natively) and an obsession with Dragons and Fantasy in general, and one day while visiting the FNAC in Brussels with my dad and scouring the English literature side, a cover spoke to me. This was in the '90s, in a country where Fantasy was basically unknown, and there was this book with a Dragon on the cover. DRAGONSBANE. Yet there was this strange vibe about this Dragon cradling this wounded woman in its massive claws, so of course I had to read the blurb.

This book changed my life.

It was SO WELL WRITTEN. And I mean, fantastically descriptive and atmospheric and it sucked me in right with its misty start and this moody, middle-aged protagonist using her magic with deep thought and consideration. Nowadays, I see all the ways the story had needed more edits, but back then I was completely under its charm. The world Hambly wrote to life remains, for me, the epitome of worldbuilding. And thus I started to emulate her style and found that, yeah, I do love writing literary prose a lot a lot.

Now, my style remained pretty much literary but to a lesser degree. What I focus hard on are the characters mostly, teh emotions, psychology, and my style now rather adapts to a character's voice and may be extremely wordy (as with, say, Sokyte or Devon), or way more simple as with a Kassandra or a Nalyn. But, at the core, I do like to write elegantly and with a certain song to it, because I speak French natively and French has a way of singing.

But none of my stories would exist had I not encountered this magnificent book in my youth. Thank you, Barbara Hambly, for ever writing it. Also let me recommend it to you if you enjoy slowburn Fantasy with intelligent Dragons, protagonists that are on a quest simply to help their lands survive a harsh winter and have real depth and shortcomings, and an intricate magic system that to this day makes me hear the Dragon's own song.

[storyteller-kara]

A few reasons for why I write.

I love when people ask, "Why do you write?" or "What got you into writing" So, in a small free style poem, or sentences in general, here are a few reasons as to why I write. <3

I write because I love books, I write because it brings me joy, I write because I love doing things with my imagination. I write because I love sharing things with the world, I write because I love making scenarios in my head, I write because it makes me feel complete.

[unefillemelancolique]

Joan Didion

Dec. 5, 1976💌

[fishwithtitz]

To those…

that scroll through my page to see what I enjoy

that, despite their depression, crack a smile for the first time in days at something I share or write before scrolling on

that “like” a post to save it for later

that feel a sense of joy, or paralyzing engagement, or even arousal at my writing

that laugh when I shit post

that reblog my work to share their excitement

that leave me long messages in my asks outlining what they appreciate about me as a writer and thinker

that share gifs with me

that enjoy my work and click the “like” button to show their appreciation

that run over to ao3 to read my stories and bookmark/subscribe/leave kudos/comment

that send me fic requests and asks

that message me through Tumblr messenger or Discord to talk about OCs and writing ideas

that beta my writing

that lurk my blog and read without any trace of them being there

…you are why I do this. I love this fandom, and yet I realize that it doesn’t owe me a damn thing. Do I live for the notes and messages and asks and comments and kudos? Absofuckinglutely. Feedback is like crack to me. Is it required currency for me to create? No.

I am not the kind of writer that can pump out chapter after chapter of writing or idea after idea of stories that spread like wildfire. I’m learning to accept that about myself. This is a hobby, as it should be, and I love to read and create with others on this app. I’ve met so many lovely friends and have been exposed to new and exciting things. Isn’t that enough? Shouldn’t it be?

All I ask is that you enjoy yourself in what I create and continue to spread the creativity yourself.

[daisylikestowritestuff]

i dreamed i dwelt in marble halls, and woke to find it true; i wasn't born for an age like this; was Smith? was Jones? were You? - George Orwell

[inhernature]

(via Mónica Gomery: “The End Is the Beginning”)

Mónica Gomery

Don’t leave, she said to me last night. Her name means Light To Me. Don’t leave this dooming feeling. Don’t jump. Her name means Unjump The Darkness. Staying is a kind of writing, she said. Writing is a kind of loving. Loving sticks a widget into the machinery of doubt. Sticks it out. She knows what I’m afraid of. Biggest grief. Tunnel of unforgiveness. She knows stay and say are two siblings walking home in the rain. And I do wonder how to love without dissolving, how to stay without unloving. Isaac Luria in the 16th century argued God wrought the world because without it, God had no expression for compassion, generosity. God might have been a giver, but how can anyone cup a hand around another hand              if there’s no other yet, just infinite beforeness. Knock knock, the lemon squeezer says, Who’s there, says infinite beforeness, It’s me,              the stainless steel responds, I’m God, you’re citrus, let’s start a world. Nobody’s a mother without somebody to blame. Nobody’s born unwedged between dirt and sky. It takes something round to wrap round something round, press down, press hard and love comes out. THIS ISN’T HOW LOVING GOES, I’m yelling at Isaac Luria’s grave, blue as a thwack of sky on stolen land. The thing about staying, she’s saying, is staying              drapes itself over everything you’re scared of. Like a blanket full of button holes, and stars wedged into them. The thing about blankets is they’re less threatening              than love. Her care pins me to a place called Here. Her name means Generous To Me, and Pressing Hard With Buttons. I’m trying to say Yes              to the holes where buttons go. Yes to the cupped hand before fruit, to the sting of juice. I could live here between dirt and sky, grow a garden in the storm drain. I could grow the garden here—Edenic river of honey, milk, river of balsam, of wine. I could spread out here and stay. Pin my fears to paper, regret and what they call “The Great Friendship Recession.” THIS ISN’T HOW LOVING GOES! I’m yelling just before the world begins. The world gets made each morning. And we’ve emptied all the garden’s fields.

Copyright © 2025 by Mónica Gomery. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 1, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.

[vhkingsink]

When All the World is Midnight

The best and worst things are forever, and nothing ever lasts. The brain tumor is gone, the damage remains, and I've started to think about my art and writing differently.

In late 2022, an MRI showed I had a brain tumor the size of a jumbo marshmallow smack in the middle of my head. The general consensus was that it had grown there slowly over the past decade—at least. Given certain diagnoses and symptoms I’d received and experienced over the years, this timeline made sense. There are still questions I doubt I’ll get answers to. Did my pituitary gland ever develop…

[azus-reyan]

How My Dear Follower Does It: #1

Meet Jojo—A Mother, A Writer, and Her "Why".

Asking someone why they do something is one of the best ways to understand them. The why is personal, deeply rooted, and often tied to passion.

Writers, though, rarely get asked this question—at least not until they’ve made it to a bestseller list. But asking yourself why you write? That’s essential. It’s the fire that keeps you going.

So yesterday, I asked Jojo—a fellow writer—what made her think, “This is it!” I expected something profound, but what I got was even better: the cherry on top of the cake.

No matter the form—dancing, acting, drawing, cooking,or writing—Jojo’s reason remains the same: ✦ She wants to express life in all its raw, messy, and beautiful emotions.

And that? That’s the heart of every great writer.

Writing Through a Mother’s Eyes.

What makes Jojo stand out, though, isn’t just her love for writing. It’s how she writes through the eyes of a mother.

Why does that matter? Because not everyone has a mother’s perspective.

Many things make great writing: persuasiveness, structure, originality… But if there’s one thing that makes it valuable, it’s relatability.

And who understands human emotions and experiences better than a mother raising two adorable babies?

Jojo is lucky—not only because she’s a writer or a mother, but because she gets to be both at the same time.

She also writes for fun!

There’s a difference between writing because it’s a job—painstakingly carving the “perfect” story—and writing simply because you want to.

Jojo doesn’t have to write. She doesn’t have to sit in front of a laptop, staring at a blinking cursor, willing inspiration to appear. She writes because she chooses to.

No deadlines. No editors breathing down her neck. No pressure from eager fans.

Just writing—for herself first. And if the world wants a peek? Well, that’s just a bonus.

A Writer at Heart.

How do you know something is real?

Relationships, faith, love—they’re all defined by one thing: commitment. Coming back to something, time and again, is what makes it genuine.

Jojo has been to many places. She dabbled in digital marketing, worked as a freelancer, and pursued a bachelor’s degree in business. All while raising two children—and only she knows the struggles that came with it.

Yet, writing remained a part of her through everything, as natural as the eyes on her face and the hands on her arms.

So what's Jojo up to, now?

Between caring for her little ones and managing a home, Jojo continues her education, with dreams of stepping into the business world. But for now, she’s here on Tumblr, sharing her creativity with the world.

And creativity is something she has in abundance.

Right now, she’s writing a thrilling story about a young woman who chooses the pirate’s life in a bid for freedom.

Here’s a glimpse into Jojo’s world, straight from her pirate adventure:

“The story began when I met my stepsister, Aurora. My mother passed away and my father had a lady waiting, with my soon-to-be stepsister in tow. But I tell you now that I'm no Cinderella.”

Wanna read more? Head to @blissfullyunawares and show Jojo some love.

Want to Share Your Story?

Everyone has a story worth telling. If you’d like to share yours, feel free to reach out to me at @azus-reyan or submit your story here. I’d love to hear it!

There’s plenty more to come, so stay tuned.

It’s been a pleasure.

Until next time— Bye!