I write, I suppose, because we never see enough happiness in the world.
Because we never see enough optimists in our daily lives.
Because everyone who has told me that the world is horrid is wrong, and I intend to prove that.
Writing is a magnificent tool to reshape reality, to escape from our daily troubles and transport ourselves to somewhere where we feel safe and warm, sat by the fireplace in a comfy sweater and a nice hot drink on a winter night.
I write because I’ve been told to get my head out of the clouds and write about real things, when they don’t understand that writing is about something real, like personal stories or global conflicts or a want for an escape.
This is why I write and never will I stop.