So the lady asked, "Why do you spend so much time writing?"

For we who write with little or no anticipation of renumeration, I submit that the rewards come in the release of obsession with the absence of payments to counseling services.

Within most of us, there is something to say about something. For others, about anything. For the severely afflicted, about everything.  Hearts and minds naturally have observations to share, complaints to file, desires to express, or simply a need to be noticed as a thinking person. Unfortunately, however, when our daily lives do not have other humans who offer either time or interest in our thoughts, those thoughts, wide in range and emotion, stay bottled-up in our mind.  It is painful. It is isolating. It is dangerous to live with such high inventory in our mental warehouse. We must find release!

Shakespeare nailed it, as he did with every aspect of human existence, "Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio." Indeed, when we have something to say, some point to make, some tale to tell, but no one to listen, no human with which to share, no other who might even care, we are alone, isolated, frustrated…
 
That oft cited tree which fell in the forest with no one there to hear it, may or may not have made a sound, but that didn’t matter! The point is not whether any sound was made, but rather, that no one was there to hear it.  The poor tree had no alternative! Writers do!
 
And, so, we write.  Then, we re-write.  We let it simmer.  We walk away in an attempt to rest from our self-imposed exile, but our thoughts remain on the unfinished masterpiece.  As surely as those sirens called to Ulysses, even as crew around him could not hear their call, our projects call to us.  We are prisoners. 
 
“Me thinks (he) doth protest too much”, you may be saying.  You might be shouting, “Fool, you put yourself in your predicament.  Stop writing and go do something constructive with your life.”  In fact, my own significant other says similar and worse to me on occasion. Not rare occasion…
 
But, that is the reason to write.  When I write, I am getting the story out of my head and onto a page. With the rewriting, the story is honed, the meaning is better defined, the point is sharpened. That aisle of my personal mental warehouse is then cleared and ready for more new thoughts.  No counseling needed, thanks.  I’ll just go for a walk and look to see what interests me…
 
For example, I am also a prisoner of rhyme. Rhyme came to me in music and in my favorite childhood books, those by Dr. Seuss.  Among the favorite moments of being a young father was to read “Red Fish, Blue Fish” to my girls. Many children’s books are in rhyme…  Writing rhyming poetry about things I notice makes me happy.  Happy is good.
 
Also, my new world of RV camping, which I never did before retirement, has introduced me to many new issues, people and places.  It has opened up a plethora of potential pontifications to me.  Just taking pictures does not tell the stories.  I must include my PC in the packing for the trip.
 
So it is with all of us who write.  We become unsatisfied to merely enjoy life, things we see, people we meet, places we go, emotions we feel, we must record them, define them, put them into context within our lives. Never mind that in a world where reading seems now focused on electronic snips from one sent to perhaps thousands or millions who may or may not notice or read them, we who write of things we notice and ponder, and try to define the meaning of, we will fill our lives with self-satisfaction.
 
Here, in the autumn of my life, I appreciate so many things so much more than when youth had me focused on youth’s passions, or when adult status had me focused either on my duties as a provider, or on introducing our children to the world’s wonders while warning and guarding them from its dangers.  With my youth gone, and my children launched, my life is free of so many distractions.  I see old things in a new light.  I see new things that were not evident before.  I see reason to wake up, to get up, to enjoy the moments and to write about them – even as my wife is writing a new list of things for me to do…