We write to make ourselves happy; to know ourselves better; to leave a record of our existence; to remember what we used to believe or think; to remember how we have grown or not grown; to make our mark on the world; to remind ourselves that who we are and what we think matters, to ourselves at least.
None of us gets to choose what body we are born into, who our parents are, what time we are born in, and where on earth we are born. This distinction is entirely our own, and no one else lives the same life we do. So: we write about it – our life and those around us, then others can learn from our mistakes and triumphs. What we write is the stuff of history. It is what we want to teach others. What we write may be read by many or only a few. What matters is that we continue to do it.
About the act of not writing:
We do not write: when we lose our confidence; when we do not trust ourselves; when we think no one cares about what or why we write; sometimes when grief or extreme sadness fills our hearts; when we think we do not have all the answers or even one worth mentioning.
It is during these times that we most need to write, even if it means forcing ourselves. These are the times when what we have to say (no matter what we may think) is the most likely to help our fellow travelers. We all have good times and bad times, sad times, and boring times. As writers, it is our task to tell about all the times: good, bad, sad, scary, wondrous, right, wrong, beautiful, inspired, ugly, and woeful.
All writing is about the writer and what is in his head or maybe what ought to be there. What others have written and we have read should teach us how to be the best humans we can be.