In my two decades as a writer, I have never written out of the desire for fame or money, but out of a constant need to express myself, to be heard. But whom was I speaking (or rather, writing) to in writing? At times I was writing to the current object of my desire and affection, at others I was writing to no one, to the void, from which all thought and experience is born and eventually returns, but in truth I was writing to myself. The lyrics, poems, and stories I wrote from fourteen to twenty-five explored who I was in relation to literature, to philosophy and religion, to those I desired, and ultimately, to myself. So much of my writing is a mirror, all my writing is a mirror actually, but I’m speaking here of the personal pieces I have written that reflect me in an infinite river of moments throughout those dozen years of life, where I was the focal point of my writing. My writing in those years was a reply to the loneliness that was, and to a great extent still is, my constant companion. It was also a way for me to channel (and, at times, express in words) my homosexual desire, which could not be enacted within the boundaries of intimate relationships.
From the age of twenty-five to the present, my writing has focused more and more on trying to find, describe, and relate the character of what it means to be human, in the name of liberty and equality. My writing now centers less on my personal desires and experiences, and more on the questions and ideas that face us every day. My writing deeply questions that which is taken for granted as true or factual; it has become politically minded and attentive to the theme that to write is to have a voice, and to use that voice is a political act that can shake and shape the world. My writing has become concentrated on the mystical, transcendent experience of art and artistic creation, and so the redemptive power of art, in contrast to the narrow-minded, hypocritical beliefs of religion that excludes as it professes to include. My writing is now also focused on the writing process, the purpose of writing, and how it shapes and reflects our lives individually and as a race. These may be the things I have written and continue to write about, but, essentially, the reasons why I write are simple and twofold: because I can and because I need to.