I could say that I enjoy writing, that I find it a pleasant and fulfilling way of passing the time, but such a statement would be a fallacy, an absolute perversion of the truth. Writing stresses me out. Whenever I complete a piece, then I am in a bad mood for days, waspish, unpleasant. But I still churn out 4000 words a day, regardless of prior commitments. Why? Writing, for me is a necessary function, like breathing. If I stopped, I would die. I am driven to write, so write I will.