Jodi Ettenberg
I write because I need to write, and have always written. Despite the requirement that I get up and actively choose to put pen to paper, it feels like I have little choice in the matter. Without allocating time to write, I feel like my spirit atrophies and my happiness levels stumble subtly day-by-day.
A lot of the writing I do never sees the light of day, and is scribbled onto scrap paper or notebooks that I either keep or discard, as the case may be. It is the act of writing that matters most. Taking the time to write helps me tease through problems and ideas, sometimes even ones that I did not realize were bubbling under the surface.
It’s a magical thing that words have become my life’s work, but I would honor them even if no one were reading.