Why Do I Write?
It was a dark and stormy night (and I began to write).
It is who I am! (What more do you want???!)
For fame and fortune (and power, yes power (hand rubbing, sinister laugh)
It is a love connection, man.
I was overcome by the scent of Algernon's flowers.
I was born with a pencil and paper in my hand (the labor was long and painful).
My English teacher said I could and should.
Emily Dickinson's ghost told me to.
You see there's this voice that whispers in my ear . . .
Other:
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