This may sound a bit strange, but it is how it is.
There are probably more artists and artistically inclined people who don’t really live if they can’t use their art as an outlet for… whatever.
I have to write. If I can’t write I don’t feel happy. Writing can be done in so many ways, even dressed ;-).
No, seriously, there are many ways to write. Some of them don’t look like writing, for instance when I’m staring into a void that only I can see. Maybe Will and Robert recognise that, or even you who reads this, when your mind wanders off to a place only you can see; a spot you visit to figure out what those folks in a story are going to come up with next. It’s a cool place, believe me.
Without a trip to such a place, or some actual writing, like for Naked Crow or the Unsworth stories, the day feels a little wasted. Just a little, mind you. No day is ever fully wasted because of the ideas that are there, the impressions that are waiting everywhere, and the nice things we can see as long as we have the right eyes.
I think that is a benefit of being able to travel. That is a great way to see new things. Amazing things. To experience nature in the best way possible (although in Arctic regions I would put on some warm stuff, I’m mad but not crazy!).
While travelling I can come up with new things for stories. New cultures, views, views, people, concepts.
And then, in the evening, I take the laptop, Chromebook, PC, whatever’s available (yes, even my smartphone) and I write. Notes, scenes, ideas. They need to be written down to fulfill my need for writing. Just like breathing, writing has become a part of me, and it doesn’t matter if I write naturist or non-naturist stories. Must Write. Just like runners who don’t feel happy if they haven’t been out running, for instance.
I used to run. I know how it feels when you can’t run. It is as if you haven’t breathed. Writing is the same thing for me. Maybe I’ve started breathing stories. Who knows. I don’t know and I don’t care. Just let me breathe. And write.