I’ve always had this burn to write. I wrote and directed plays forcing my younger sister and neighbour to perform in front of our parents as a young child and I scribbled poems into my Dad’s old work diary.
Now as an adult I’ve written on and off in a journal for years. I write poetry to share out loud with a group of friends as a poetry performance group. Plus I’m in the middle of writing my second draft of a young adult novel.
So why do I write these words and live parts of my day in somebody else’s head? Apart from my performance poetry and now this blog, plus twitter, nobody sees the words that I’m seeing in my head and on the page. So why am I doing it?