Quick story:

Recently, one of the students in my writing class said that after reading the short story I’d submitted for critique, she gave her mom a hug and told her she loved her.  (The story was about a teenage girl who was trying to work up the courage to talk to her mother about a pretty serious topic in the girl’s life.)

That’s why I do it.  That’s why I write.  I do it because I hope it matters to someone.

If something I’ve written gives you a break from real life, from homework headaches or taxes or your sick grandma or a job loss or whatever…then I figure I’ve done my job.  If something I’ve written motivates you to tell someone you love them, then I figure I’ve done my job.  Man, I love being an author – all the ups and downs and stress and joy.  LOVE it.  It’s what I always wanted to do, going back to middle school.  But what really gets me going is this idea that something I’ve invested so much time and energy into can have a seriously cool impact on someone’s life.

So, yeah.  That’s why I do it. 

Now go hug your mom.