Chloé Bertrand: Why I write
I’m not a writer; I’m a gate maker.
Nobody ever asks me why I write. It’s a shame ‘cause I’ve got an epic answer…
I’ve got no choice.
Do I love writing? Of course I do and I thank the Universe for it! If I hated it I’d be in serious trouble- the kind of trouble that ends with me in a psychiatric hospital. Nope, not kidding. Sorry.
I say I have no choice because for some reason a couple thousand weird folks chose my head to camp in. It’s Neverland up there, except it’s not an island; it’s a freaking continent! It’s crowded with lost people, asking me to tell their stories, and by doing so build a bridge, a gate back to their homelands. By crowded I mean New York-crowded. Champs Élysées-crowded, and you know the worst part? More keep coming in. Seriously, I put a « no vacation » note on the door but I think I’m going to need to hire a security service at some point.
I’m saying all this like it’s a problem but to be honest, I love all the guys in my head –and the girls, but for some reason I mostly write about guys. They’re strange, they’ve got stories to tell, and they give me an excuse to escape from the real world. Our world can be kind of boring, you know? No offense. The real world can be pretty awesome- sometimes. But you know, … it lacks dragons.
Being able to do this; write stories in a way that makes people want to read them, is the only answer I’ve ever had to the question « why am I here? ». I’m pretty sure I was meant to be a freaking knight in some weird magic land or a zombie slayer, a dragon rider, a cowboy- you name it. However, here I am, on a very normal, non-magic sofa, in a normal flat, in a normal town, at normal land, studying English for lack of a better vocation. So were it not for the horde of magic folks in my head and the magic that seeps out of my fingers when I write, I would seriously think that the Universe had made a mistake regarding my destiny.
But it didn’t.
My favourite French author, Pierre Bottero, once said that he had spent the first part of his life looking for the door to the magic lands from the books he used to read. He said that when he started writing his own stories, he realised he had found the door. That’s exactly how I feel about writing! Here it is- my door.
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