Why do you write? (2)

... my publisher asked me.
'Because it is there', I wanted to answer, but I didn't. I sat and thought, trying to find another way to say the same thing without its lack of intellectual commitment.
Not easy.
'Because it is there' is so tempting. It is why sir Edmund Hillary climbed Mount Everest. 'Why?' the reporter asked. 'Because it is there', Hillary answered.
'Why do you write?'
Because the story is there. All I have to do is sit down and write it. Give it a way to form itself, to grow, to come into existence. Just like climbing Everest further defines the mountain, so does writing prove that the story exists. Even more so.
That is the beauty of it. It is not the creative part that is so attractive, it is helping the poor bugger that cannot speak for itself.
The story is there. It always is, funny as that may seem. It is just a question of finding it. Once you have spotted it, sitting there all huddled up, trying to hide itself from prying eyes, it is almost impossible to leave it alone. You want to care for it, raise it, feed it. Before you know, you reach out your hand and you start tugging, slowly and carefully at first, not wanting to inflict injury by pulling to hard. If it doesn't respond, you start teasing it, trying to tempt it out of its hiding place, working all the tricks and techniques you know.
Then, suddenly, it starts to move, and it comes to you like a neglected and undernourished dog that at first does not know if he can trust you, until he crosses the line, and throws itself at you and just loves you to bits.
If that's not why I write I don't know what is.