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I wanted to share with you an experience I had that reminded me why we write. You already know it, but I needed to be reminded.

I had a horrible day yesterday. I’ll spare you the maudlin laundry list because it’s boring. I got so caught up in my drama, I was convinced I had screwed up my life beyond repair.

I worked out because that usually gets me out of my funk. It did for a second, but then I went back down. I meditated. I free wrote. Nope. I was enjoying my pity party too much.

A friend and I were going to see “Monuments Men” that night. I liked the idea of the movie. I liked the actors in it. I hoped it was as good as I wanted it to be. I read one review that panned it. They said they were delivering the lines before the actors it was that poorly written. They compare it to propaganda movies from the World Wars. That’s not what I wanted to see after the day I had, but it was too late to cancel.

Sitting there in the dark theatre, I was renewed. It started with the trailers. I love trailers. I know there’s an art to them and scenes are carefully selected. I love the musicality and timing of them. One featured a line of dialogue that reshaped how I was looking at my day. It was the trailer for “Noah”. As the world is erupting, one character says, “It’s the end of everything,” to which Noah replies, “It’s the beginning.” I’ve heard that several times from several people, but my mouth dropped when I heard that. Of course! These were opportunities for me to become the person I’m meant to be.

Then the movie started. Yeah, there were some parts that needed improvement, but overall it was beautiful. I could do a review, but the experience reminded me why we write. One reason is so future generations know groups like the Monuments Men existed. Art heals and art saves. For 123 minutes, I didn’t think about my bank account and my Inner Mean Girl shut up.

My writer came out, picking out the weaker areas and knowing, if I had wrote it, what readers would have said. I enjoyed a twist. I enjoyed what was being said and how it was being accomplished. Yes, film is a collaborative media, but point is writers create that blue print. I was reminded I knew what I was talking about.

I was reminded how much I want to write. Sitting there watching pictures, grimacing and feeling a “No!” in my stomach when the Nazis torched stacks of paintings, I want to provide this experience for someone else. Not only do I want them to feel, I want to offer them escape, a little vacation in the middle of chaos.

Monday morning, my issues are still here and as real as they were yesterday, but it is thawed where I thought impenetrable. I have new energy and a new plan of attack because of my cinematic respite.

What do you think? Why do you write? Let me know in the comments below.