My recent blog post on why I write fiction begged the question of why do I write at all. The answer: because I have to.
This is not the first time in this blog that I have tackled the question of why I write. The answer is the same every time but with new understanding. I’ve known since I was six years old that I was born to write. As a youngster, I came to understand that my mandate was to tell stories—that is, my job was to write fiction as my way of telling the truth about life. And I was to be blessed with insight about the truth.
As I have reported here before, I tried to escape my fate as a young man. I always knew I was to be an artist, but I thought perhaps I could be a dancer, an actor, or—especially—a musician. I even went so far as to take a BA in music. But my patient angels consistently brought me back to my true calling.
Writing, of course, doesn’t pay, so as a young man with a wife and children, I indulged my natural flare for foreign languages, got into intelligence, and became a spy, secretly intercepting and exploiting the radio communications of other nations. I got so good at supporting friendly troops on the battlefield that the National Security Agency (NSA), my employer, promoted me ahead of my contemporaries. I got so many assignments to combat regions that I didn’t have time to write.
As a result, I retired as early as I could, with a generous annuity, so that I could write fulltime. At last I could fulfill my God-given mission. I now have six books and 17 short stories in print. You can learn about the books at the Amazon web site devoted to me https://www.amazon.com/Tom-Glenn/e/B009GGNYUM%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
Perhaps I should explain, not for the first time, that refusing to write would, for me, invite damnation. It’s so clear to me that it was to write that I was put on earth.
Sitting on my dining room table is a mug filled with pens and pencils. I’ve had it for more years than I can remember. The words on it are, “I write because it’s my purpose.”