Why do I write? It is a simple question, one that I have never been asked before, or even consciously thought about. Because of this, a simple, concise answer does not immediately spring to mind.

There are many reasons, I believe, that I write, though I do not give them any thought when I actually am writing; I just do it and know that the act brings me happiness. I suppose you could say that is the first reason why I write: it brings me happiness.

Sometimes, even though I have never given it any real thought, I wonder what made me decide to undertake writing my first book. I was only nine, and it was tackling a big topic: cancer, and the freewill to reject the poisons injected into a patient in order to fight it. It was much too big of a topic for nine-year-old me to take on, and I clearly remember struggling through all the parts in which I was required to use my admittedly lacking knowledge of cancer; alas, I was not deterred. I was too far into the story to quit, so I pushed through the hard parts until it was finally complete.

Freshman year, when I was fourteen, I heard of a writing program called NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo is a challenge in which you are to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November; upon completion, you will have a shiny first draft of a book along with a slew of prizes to be won from the site. I was intrigued when I first heard of it, so I decided to undertake the challenge. It was difficult, as I was a full-time student with loads of homework to complete every night, along with having to write at least 1,667 words daily to remain on track for my 50,000-word goal. I hit ruts in my novel, like all authors do, but I powered through them because I wanted to prove to myself that a fourteen-year-old could write a novel in the span of a month - and I did it, entering December with a 68,677-word book under my belt. Ever since that November, I have written an additional 207,919 words (3 complete novels, one a little over half finished) with the NaNoWriMo program, even though its challenge causes me great stress during the months it takes place.

These two instances show me that I write to prove to myself that I am capable of overtaking a challenge most adults cannot do, and I do it year after year, twice a year, at half their age. It proves to me that, although I am not athletically gifted or involved like most of my peers, I can write more words in the span of five months than some of them will throughout their entire high school career.

One time, back in eighth grade, I was watering flowers in my yard, and as I looked down upon them I couldn’t help but wonder what the flowers may have been thinking, if they were capable of thought. I headed inside and promptly rattled off a short story all about seeing life through a plant’s eyes, and then submitted it to Teen Ink after sending it through one round of edits. I didn’t expect to get much out of it, but the next thing I knew my short story was published on the website and I was awarded my first of their Editor’s Choice awards.

Having what I thought was a mediocre short story win an award from this renowned publication made me realize that maybe I do not always give myself and my work enough credit. It boosted my confidence, and made me realize that we often misjudge the quality of our own work, and that what we find to be just average others may find to be well above that.

With twelve years of writing experience, twelve published works, two Editor’s Choice awards, and nine novels to my name, one would assume I would have figured out the reason why I write by now. But there is no clear answer to this. I write because there are stories within me itching to be free; I write to prove to myself that you do not have to excel at sports or all academics in order to achieve something important; I write to share my words with the world; I write simply because it makes me happy. Maybe one of these reasons is more dominant than the others, or maybe it is a combination of all of these things that is why I write.