Why do I write? 
Why do I do what I do? 
I write because a little girl
With red hair and glasses
Was once upon a time
Enchanted by,
Enamored with, 
And possibly obsessed with…books

She would read voraciously 
Hot summer afternoons, cold winter nights
Meeting characters, going on adventures, 
Learning about the past, exploring alien worlds
Discovering new places and fantasies, 
All through markings of ink, 
Printed on a page 

Someday she would find a voice of her own, 
Taking great joy in the process of writing (and rewriting)
Creating outlines and drafts until concepts flowed 
She would analyze, interpret, and make a claim
Drawing attention to deep and unknown parts 
Shining light on treasures buried within a text

She became a guide to readers on their journey 
Sifting through the silt of a narrative, searching for gold 
Her writing took shape in the process of revision
Through hours of relentless dedication and thought
Trimming away the excess clay like a sculptor
Giving life to her art, setting her creation free 

To write is to create a new world
To be a treasure guide on a journey in a foreign land
To see the world from a new perspective 
To take another’s viewpoint, juxtaposed with your own
To make discoveries about yourself, others, and the world 
To access something deeper and sacred 
In the process of sharing our souls 

That’s why I write
Why I do what I do
Not because I have anything revolutionary to say
But because I owe it to that little girl
With red hair and glasses
Who was obsessed with books 
And never dreamed
She could be a real writer someday