Day 211 –  Write because you must write

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Why Write? The Untamed Truth About the Creative Urge

“If you want fame, be a prize fighter or a movie star. If you write, write because you must write.” – Sinclair Lewis

It’s a stark, uncompromising sentiment. In an era dominated by influencer culture, personal branding, and the relentless pursuit of going viral, this advice feels almost revolutionary—perhaps even a little discouraging at first glance.

We live in a world that practically worships visibility. Social media algorithms reward the loud, the flashy, and the prolific. Yet, true artists across the generations have continually reminded us that the engine of genuine literature cannot be fueled by the superficial desire for applause.

If you are picking up a pen or opening a blank document simply because you want people to know your name, you are playing the wrong game. Here is a deep dive into why true writing is an act of compulsion, not ambition, and why writing “because you must” is the only way to survive the page.

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The Mirage of Literary Fame

Let’s address the elephant in the room: fame.

In the popular imagination, the writer’s life is often romanticised. We picture glittering book launches, glowing profiles in The New Yorker, packed readings, and the quiet satisfaction of shaping the cultural zeitgeist.

The reality is vastly different. Writing is, by its very nature, a solitary, gruelling, and largely unglamorous pursuit. It involves staring at a blinking cursor for hours, wrestling with self-doubt, rewriting the same paragraph seven times, and sending your deepest thoughts out into a vast, indifferent void.

If your primary motivation is fame, writing will inevitably break your heart. The publishing industry is notoriously fickle. Bestseller lists are crowded, trends shift overnight, and the correlation between literary merit and public recognition is notoriously weak.

Worse yet, chasing fame fundamentally alters what you write. When you write for an audience’s approval, you begin to self-censor. You write what is marketable, what is trendy, or what is palatable. You trade your authentic voice for algorithmic compliance. And in doing so, you lose the very thing that makes your writing worth reading in the first place.

What Does It Mean to “Write Because You Must”?

When the legendary author (or wise observer, as echoed in sentiments by writers from Bukowski to Orwell) suggests writing because you must, they are pointing to a psychological and emotional necessity.

Writing out of compulsion looks different. It is:

• An itch that refuses to be scratched: It’s the story that wakes you up at 3:00 AM demanding to be told. It’s the observation about human nature that you can’t shake until you trap it in a sentence.
• A method of survival: For many writers, putting words on a page isn’t a hobby; it is a way of processing grief, confusion, joy, and the chaotic experience of being alive. As Joan Didion famously wrote, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.”
• An involuntary reflex: You write not because you want to be a writer, but because not writing leaves you feeling hollow, anxious, and disconnected from yourself.

When you operate from this space of necessity, the external markers of success—book sales, follower counts, critical acclaim—become secondary. They are nice if they happen, but they are not the point. The point is the work itself.

The Freedom of the Compulsive Writer

Paradoxically, letting go of the desire for fame is the most liberating thing a writer can do.

When you write strictly because you must, you give yourself permission to fail. You give yourself permission to write a terrible first draft, to explore weird themes, and to tell stories that appeal to an audience of one: yourself.

• You reclaim your voice: Without the pressure to please the masses, your prose becomes sharper, stranger, and more honest.
• You build resilience: Rejection hurts, but it doesn’t destroy you. If a publisher passes on your manuscript, it stings—but you will keep writing anyway, because stopping was never really an option.
• You find your true tribe: Ironically, readers can smell authenticity a mile away. The work that resonates the most deeply across generations is almost always the work that was written with utter disregard for market trends, born purely from an author’s urgent need to express a truth.

How to Know Why You Are Writing

Take a moment to check your creative pulse. Ask yourself honestly:

• If no one ever read what I am writing right now, would I still write it?
• Am I dreaming more about holding my published book, or more about solving the puzzle of the chapter I’m working on?
• Does writing feel like a chore I endure for status, or a fire I have to tend to stay warm?

If your answers lean toward the former in each scenario, it’s time to recalibrate. Lower the stakes. Stop writing for the applause sign.

Final Thoughts: Answer the Call

If you want to be a celebrity, go audition for a reality show, start a viral TikTok channel, or train for the ring. There are much faster, more efficient ways to achieve fame than writing a novel.

But if there is a quiet, persistent voice inside you that demands expression—if stories form behind your eyes when you walk down the street, and if words are the only way you know how to make sense of this wild world—then pick up the pen.

Don’t write for the claps. Don’t write for the bestseller lists. Write because you must. Everything else is just noise.

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