Grace Prince: Why I write
Writing is my sanity.
Growing up, I devoured books, journaled, wrote poems, and played around with writing skits. In college, I majored in English, was an obsessive perfectionist when it came to writing essays and successfully dabbled in the creative writing courses. All these things fed me. Kept me feeling alive. But, like most things in life, I didn’t realize how important writing for me was until it was gone.
At the end of college, I had my first born. A beautiful boy. Much of this new life was good, but much of this new life was filled with depression, darkness, and hopelessness. Only later would I recognize that I had quietly been suffering with postpartum depression, which then snowballed out of control. I wonder now, if I had put pen to paper then, if that could have helped me through those dark days. Deep inside, I know the answer is yes, but instead, I kept pushing the things I loved further away and filling the blank spaces in with self sabotage.
In the end, I sought help, and life has never been better. In addition, late one night I started writing again. At that point in time, our second born was just a few weeks old, colicky, and only content in my arms. I was tired, sure. Add to that, the house was a mess, and the only laundry I seemed to have time for was the never-ending pile of dirty diapers. Miraculously though, that night in our quiet house, with my newborn asleep across my chest, I reached for my laptop. And I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. And I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. And I won’t.
You may not be able to buy my novels at your local bookstore today, or google my name even, but that’s okay. Because writing is also my journey and there is no destination, only the road ahead.
“Reading is my inhale. Writing is my exhale.” - Glennon Doyle Melton