Why Do Writers Write

Published April 22, 1982. 

    Not long ago I was invited to speak to the Provo Chapter of the National League of American Pen Women. These women are highly skilled, individually and collectively, in writing and related arts.

    It was intimidating to speak to a group of polished writers. In preparing for my short talk I repeatedly asked myself, “Why do I write? Or, for that matter, why does anyone write?”

    I told the women that my writing often ends up on the bottom of the bird cage or wrapped around yesterdays’ garbage. And writing is one of the best examples of non-reinforcement that I know. Seldom do you know what impact, if any, your writing has on others. And there are moments when you wonder if anyone is actually reading what you write.

    But it is that chance that keeps most writers at the pen or computer. Some may write for their own satisfaction, but most hope that someone, somewhere will read and even appreciate what they have to say.

    Then there are those rare occasions when you know precisely why you write. Such was my experience a few weeks ago when I received a rather lengthy letter from a woman. I now read her letter often when I sit down to try and organize some of my thoughts on paper.

    In her letter the woman described several difficult years of marriage while she and her husband had a large family. She mentioned some attempts, none of which worked, to improve the relationship. Divorce seemed like a possibility, as they appeared to drift apart.

Then she wrote,

    "One day I was reading an article on marriage in the Deseret News. I usually don’t like to read things like that because they always seem so idealistic and unattainable. But this article seemed to have some common sense and was down to earth. The particular article was one you wrote about crabgrass in your lawn, and you compared it to ‘crabgrass’ in marriage.

    You mentioned how you and your wife had worked hard to get your lawn to grow. You said you had to focus on the lawn (what you desired), so it would crowd out the crabgrass (what was undesired). And this was after everyone had told you to dig up your lawn and start over.

    After reading your article I cried and cried. I had cried before, but never do I remember feeling the way I did after reading the article. I realized that deep down inside of me I really did love my husband. And I was relieved to find a workable solution to a very difficult problem.

    So I tried something. I started writing notes of appreciation to my husband, They were just short notes telling him thanks for something or sharing with him a crazy poem. He didn’t say or do anything the first day or for several days after that.

    Then one night we got into an argument and I thought ‘Here we go again.’ Later that evening (we weren’t talking) he came into the kitchen and put his arms around me. He gave me a special hug that broke the awful tension. It was the beginning of many more hugs, kisses, and talks that we needed.

    We have a long way to go on our marriage, but I think maybe we can now make it. It will take a lot of work because learning how to love again seems to be incredibly difficult. But it now looks feasible thanks to a simple newspaper article you wrote, Dr. Barlow, on     crabgrass and marriage."

    And receiving letters like that, I told the Provo Chapter of Pen Women, is one of the main reasons    why I continue to write.