Writing is a gateway to another world. When people open their computers and compose prose they are lifted from the dull monochromatic world they see buying groceries and cleaning their dishes. New colors shine in on them, and they become capable of seeing an entirely new realm.
For them the English tongue opens a never-ending, never-good-enough, always-hanging-over-their-head, deadline-driven, fear-inducing, panic-invoking reality. And they get addicted. Their ideas become stories festering in their minds until they claw their way out and muddy a pristine page, or magazine or book.
This is who I am. This is what I do.