“Ain’t life grand?” Or at least that’s what they say. I say, “No it ain’t, not all the time.” I say it’s all you’ve got and you learn to deal with what you were given. Writing was given to me. The best gift I never asked for. The best escape I could never dream of. Pencil and paper…maybe. Fingers and keyboards…definitely. Regardless of which is chosen there’s a movie playing in my mind, in my soul. It needs to be written, yearns to be read. It fights to get out, unable to be contained. So why not set it free? Why not free my mind of this chaos known to many as imagination? I write until I no longer see that vivid image playing in high definition…and then I write some more. I release my desires, my unhappiness, my anger, my “whatever is in that moment.” I breathe new life into a story that claws at my existence, ripping me to pieces until it’s in its rightful place, on paper. I didn’t just become a writer; it’s what I’ve always been. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s my life, encompassed and passed on to you. The better question is, why don't you write?