Why Do I Write

I write because I breathe. Writing is such a part of this incarnation of me, that I would sooner stop breathing than put down my pen or turn off my computer’s word processor.

How I love that my muse never forsakes me. No matter where or when I am, ideas flood in, full with colour, complete with dialogue and characters who demand their own lives.

I often find myself thinking of writing topics when I am driving, and when recently I was mulling over my roots in South Africa, the visions of a story burst in on my thoughts. Thank goodness for voice record on my iPhone.

Perhaps to show you why I have such a passion for writing, I can share just a few sentences that exploded into my consciousness like verbal fireworks that day.

The scent of my Africa is a hot, metallic and musky taste upon my tongue, energetic, vigorous and bursting with life.

Africa is the dry and dusty edge of an ancient world filled with mystery and heralding the birth of man upon planet earth.

It is a land of flamboyant colours, all of which are mimicked in the exotic flora and fauna of this magnificent continent.

Sleek lionesses blend in with the tall yellow grassland, permitting them to stealthily approach their dinner. Their movements are so slight, that the slight sway of grass simply suggests a gentle but welcome African breeze, not the lithe approach of one who is seeking nourishment.

Spring time brings the fuzzy yellow blooms of acacia trees as if hundreds of soft downy newborn chicks were nestled in their branches. Sometimes beauty comes with unexpected claws. Acacias have long, strong and vicious thorns, ready to sting the hand that takes liberties.

Late summer reduces life-giving water holes to grey, cracked mud, where elephants can wallow in perfect camoflage. The cooling mud has the added benefit of reducing the annoying itch of parasitic insects on the hides of these magnificent creatures, who are in reality, the true king of beasts.

The vibrant red of the aloe is also a flash of brilliantly coloured wings of some of Africa’s many birds.

As I dictated this last sentence into my obedient iPhone, I arrived at my destination, still reflecting my enjoyment of my few moments immersed in the veldt of Africa replete with the smells, the sounds and the breezes of my childhood.

This passion for words and visions, that I commit to print, is the reason I know without reservation that when I write, I am enjoying the necessary breath of life.

Marilyn