I often find myself pondering exactly what it is that makes me write. The automatic response on being asked is always, “because I can’t not write.” And while this is true, it doesn’t really provide any insight as to why I live in such a state (for ‘state’ it certainly is . . .).
I don’t have the answer to the big question, but I’m aware that emotional responses to events or moments often inject me with a shot of writing adrenalin. That is, I feel a sweep of inspiration that manifests as a desire to transform and interpret whatever I’ve just seen/heard/smelt into character experiences and, through them, story.
It may be something as benign as a sweeping bit of scenery on a TV nature documentary, or an event as catastrophic as any of the recent spate of natural disasters across the world. My emotional responses may vary, but they nonetheless lead to an urge to immerse myself in an imagined recreation of whatever has inspired them. I don’t always act on these impulses (I am not currently writing about earthquakes, for example), but I do feel them.