I’m sure I’ll add to this list. These are all true, but not at all times and not equally.
- For fame.
- For money.
- For groupies.
- Because life is funny, odd, beautiful and short.
- To win the approval of my friends: William Blake, Emily Dickinson, Emily Bronte, William Carlos Williams, John Keats, Stevie Smith, Franz Kafka. These are my father and mother, my sisters and brothers.
- Because it’s fun.
- Because I’m a genius, and it wouldn’t be fair to deprive the world of my works.
- Because, even though I’m an idiot and my writings are ugly and stupid children, they are mine.
- To create one piece that will add something to one person’s life, whether it comforts, inspires, enrages or amuses her.
- To live forever.
- To add my little part to the good humanity does, and balance out a little of our immense evil; to justify the ways of man to God.
- To save the world.
- To save God.
- To save myself.
- Because writers have given me so much, and I want to do what I can in my turn.
- To go home.
- Because I can’t sing.