Why?

I'm sitting here at 21:10 at night. The house is quiet: The Ravishing Mrs. TB is off at a conference in Florida, Na Clann are all in beds, exhausted either from a sleepover or cramming into bed with dad (and the resulting lack of sleep), Syrah is downstairs sleeping. The rain we had last night is gone but the clouds are back, leaving the cloudy silence that always seems to come. In a thought, I'm alone with my thoughts.

And alone with my writing.

I've been questioning my writing these last three days, especially in conjunction with this blog: why do I write, why do I write what I write about, am I having any impact by writing this.

Why do I write? Two reasons I suppose: one is that I simply have to write. I can't not do so, at least not for long periods of time. The other reason is that I write because I have hope that I can make some kind of impact.

Impact? That gets to the second question for writing, which is what I write about. Of this, I am not so sure. Originally when I started this blog, I had the idea I would write about God and my experiences with nature. If I look over time, that has morphed considerably into sometimes involving God and more often involving introspection about myself, or my circumstances, or even my life. I don't know if that is as impactful as I would have hoped it would be.

So why do I continue to write? If I had to try and reign in these octopus arms of writing, what would I try to do? If I want to have an impact (and what kind of impact is another question), what should I be focusing on?