“It’s been on my wall for years and I regularly read it.”

Why do we write? To connect with people. To make magic.

You know when you create something and, even if you’re honest-and-truly doing it for yourself and because it’s fun and you don’t care if anyone reads it ever, someone actually does read (or listen or watch) something you did and it touches them, it connects with them, and it sparks some magic in them.

Then you remember why you did it–why you do it.

It’s that connection. That communal spark of joy you created and then it reached someone and it’s not unlike when you shuffle your feet on the carpet and then touch someone and you get that shock. But this is delayed and not only does it not hurt like that but you get the jolt deeper inside you and it lasts longer.

As a quick side note, I really don’t like that carpet-spark phenomenon and I try to prevent it by touching the back of my wrist to something first! This is just in case you and I meet in person and you think I might like to be shocked by you.

But 2004? It’s now 2019. That’s 15 (fifteen, one-five, a decade and a half) later. That’s a long time. That’s as old as my teenage son. His entire life time and way back then I, apparently, wrote a short piece called “The Secret Bus to Paradise” that reached someone.

Why do we write? Well, I write because I can’t write. But a secondary reason? To connect, to reach, to spark.

So, I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.