I love to write. I like to read what I write sometimes. Other times, I wouldn’t dare read over what I wrote.
Sometimes it feels like I am speaking out – when pen is on paper – like I am confiding in one who will not tell. Maybe not? But in the end, I feel much better. I don’t have, neither do I find all the answers in writing today. Still I write, I write anyway.
So if it works for you, write. Write as many times as you can, to as many people as you choose, in the many ways you can. By any means, write…
.And in the many years to come, on that vellum old and gray…you’ll look at those characters, as alive as ever in those words you did write – the words you did write as many times as you could, to as many people as you did, in the many ways you could and in the many words you found to say.
– Wintony V. Sands
2./8/2016: I write because I remember them all so well. I am alone for a minute till I visit home again. Until then, what else shall I do with – but write of – these memories. So I write.
So i am not sure about the writing experiences of others, but do tell me…why do you write?
The Writer 
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