Sometimes writing means transforming the stuff of life into art. Distilling experience, crystallizing it so that readers recognize it instantly and say, "Yes, that's what life is like."
Often writing means pausing from life, retiring behind a closed door, to make sense of everything that has happened, to digest it.
Sometimes the stuff of life is so immediate, urgent, and troubling--or so thrilling and absorbing--that we can't write. We're too preoccupied with living.
Sometimes we break away from our writing desks to make sure we don't miss life.
Sometimes we live with a mental keyboard in our heads, recording notes. Sometimes in this way, we capture a part of life that we would otherwise forget. Sometimes we write down those notes to fix them more permanently.
Sometimes the writing desk is a solace, an escape from tedium or pain in daily life.
Sometimes writing is a celebration. Sometimes it's a way to process painful truths.
Writing is a life examined, which is supposed to be a life worth living. But a life can't be spent only writing.
Sometimes we put down writing for a while. Sometimes it refuses to be put down.