If You Don’t Know Me By Now

I had an epiphany the other day about my next writing project. I was driving. I was thinking about my errands, the dry cleaner, the special light bulbs, the pharmacy. I was thinking about a difficult call I had to make. I was thinking about my sister. In other words, I wasn’t thinking about what to work on next when it came to me: wait. I remembered that every one of my books started organically. I was seized with an idea and started writing. Some stuck, some didn’t. But I never made myself do anything. Why was I making myself crazy? I think the reason is I always feel lonely when I’m not working on a project. I think I started writing as a kid because I was lonely.

What makes your write?