Have you ever stopped to wonder whether you write because you enjoy it, or if you write because fate deals you those cards? This is providing you are able to wrap your mind around and accept, to a degree, the concept of fate.
By fate i don't mean all things are preordained of course, that could be considered silly. Instead define fate as the path you take yourself down through all your decisions. We create our own fate. A self fulfilling prophecy if you will.
What I mean is. Have you ever fallen in love, utterly in love, which draws from you a great new aspect of writing, and then that love fails. The failure launches you into a great despair, which of course causes even more deep and meaningful writing to come from you.
For me, sometimes, it feels as though every endeavor I take myself on is simply a subconcious guidance down the road that will improve my writing. I sometimes wonder if I can find love, or happiness, or if the IDEA's of love and happiness only exist for me in order to brighten me so I may be plunged deeper into the realm of my writing at a later point.
Now this is not meant to be some Emo, depressing "My soul is bleeding" kind of thing. Not in the least. This is just a simple question to anyone who reads this:
Do you write to express life? Or do you LIVE only to influence what you write?
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