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  • Writer's pictureM. Laszlo

Why Did I Become a Writer?


For some, this kind of question may be difficult to answer. For me, the question is exceedingly easy. And my answer is quite simple: the life of a writer enables me to strive to help others while affording me the ability to avoid the kind of stress that accompanies other philanthropic kinds of work.

My father practiced medicine, and my mother was a registered nurse—and though they loved the work of helping and serving others, both my father and mother lived with a great deal of stress. For one thing, a physician practices medicine knowing full well that any simple mistake could result in a potentially devastating malpractice suit. In addition, a physician can be forced to practice in a state where certain therapies are unlawful. It must be stressful and burdensome to know of an unlawful cure that could have or would have alleviated the patient’s suffering.

For many physicians, the stress and the guilt grow so intense that the healthcare provider himself or herself begins to grow greatly unhealthy.

Other vocations by which a person may serve others can be even more intense. To serve one’s country must be incredibly difficult. Or what about the person who serves in law enforcement? Few ways of serving others could be more perilous than fighting fires. Honestly, it must be exceedingly trying to serve as any kind of first-responder.

On the other hand, by choosing writing or art or music, a person may seek to communicate with others and may seek to help them in some way—but without being weighed down by the kind of burdensome pressure that afflict those more crucial, existentially important callings.

            Finally, it’s okay for a writer or artist or musician to feel less important than firefighters and that type of person. Nevertheless, the writer, artist, or musician must keep pushing forward. Literature, art, and music command the power to heal in their own humble, personal way.

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