Why I Write
Some teachers touch us in inexplicable ways. Their enthusiasm and encouragement fuels your desire to drive on when you feel there isn't another keystroke to make. Your muse is dry, you have no ideas and your words taste like chopped liver while you cough them out. But you keep going. You keep writing. Why? Because your teacher, the one that wrote that amazing book you read and had to have more of, saw a twinkle of hope inside your paragraphs and said they admired the way you keep trying. They said they know you'd "make it". I don't know where I need to "make it" to, but place yourself on top of the world and you'll know how I feel when I write something good enough (in my eyes) to print here.