Source: Artist: Me
In the sense of what it means when one references the word writer, I don't fit the requirements. I don't write entertaining tales, exciting plots or passionate poetry. Nevertheless, I am urged to express my ideas and opinions through not only writing but drawing as well.

From whence the urge originates is a mystery to me. I am often disappointed when the urge pursues, haunting me with its nagging. I plead that my ideas or opinions if expressed or recorded make no difference. The urge does not satisfy with an answer rather dogging me with its repeated insistence, "Express".

The urge rises many times a day, pounding most fiercely in the morning. Perhaps louder upon awaking as my mind's objections are still foggy allowing the urge direct access. If I do not give in to the early morning crisis, eventually the urge fades into a malaise settling into a pout.

It never leaves entirely though, quietened only after I finally relent and either write some lines or add a few strokes to the drawing on my drafting board.

I am as confused and embarrassed with this urge as I would be if I had a drug addiction I could not control. I feel it is knocking at the wrong door, a case of mistaken identity. Consistently for the sake of peace, I satisfy its annoying poking and comply.

My complied with efforts disappear into the entrails of my computer or at times published on to a current online blogging site. Somehow public publishing silences the torturous why my mind creates. At least, here and there, someone looks at one of my pieces soothing something else in me that requests a sharing reveal.

Perhaps if I was striving to gain monetary rewards from my writing or drawing work, the why of it would relax and struggle less with the urge's creative demands.

Unfortunately my ambition for pushing my work towards monetary compensation is lacking although I have noticed that when one of my pieces does sell, I enjoy the validation. It seems the urge needs to be 'liked'. The validation lasts a month or so affording me relief from the torturous why.

I have, in my analysis of these goings ons, defined this urge as a desire for connection. A connection with my awareness within the process of creating and in addition, a connection with my tribe in the reveal.

Yielding soothes me into a peaceful profundity although my mind with its practical filing system incapable of finding a file folder for categorization of this urge, is not content and continues asking why.

I am working in accepting my mind's confusion since the urge has increased in strength the more I submit. Deliciously incomparable, the peace filling me when I obey has no other competing rivals.

It is this peace gleaned that gains favour with my mind's unrelenting search for the why of it.

Thank you for the opportunity to 'write here'.