Writing is as individual as writers who are as individual as blades of grass that bend and sway in the wind, each one hoping for that small ray of sunshine that might fall on them and bathe them in light, for however brief a period of time. 

There are as many reason for writing as there are fish in the sea, maybe more since I havent counted the fish recently, but for the "real" writer, it may be less of a happy hobby to pass the time than that of being unable to NOT write.

More than once I have found myself in the middle of the night, in that strange nowhere land betwixt sleep and waking, with my mind working quietly away while I mentally scream at it to stop and go sleepy bye byes. Its response is usually to sneer at my fallibility and trot out a gem of wisdom (which I am supposed to remember by the way), which will kick start the creative writing process after my slumber.

I faithfully promise to remember this gem of wisdom and, as I slowly sink back into the depths of my quicksand sleep, the door bursts open and my friendly 'writing muse' crashes in growling at me to get up and write before I forget. (He's right of course but I would never let HIM know that!)

So it is that I often begin my writing day with a (futile) attempt at deciphering the scrawl of what I like to call "my handwriting" from the previous night. All too often the gems of wisdom from my over-active brain have either slipped away quietly, along with my dreams or, in the case of those I do actually remember, the meaning is lost and the gem from the previous nights encounter looks more like a dirty old pebble in the cold harsh light of dawn.  

Why do I endure this just to write things? The truth is, I cannot just walk away and start doing something more constructive or profitable because I am one of those who just cannot NOT write, despite myself!

I wont even begin to go into how my friendly 'writing- muse' reacts when I rasie the thought of giving up writing forever and getting some sleep..........!