I do not choose to write. I just do it. It’s like breathing. Or crying. Or laughing. Or eating. Or loving someone. Not really a matter of choice. I can discipline myself not to do something which is normally done autonomously at a specific time or space. But It cannot be halted beyond a certain appointed limit. If anyone holds one’s breath beyond the limit she or he is conditioned to, she or he will expire. If writing is natural like a breath, it should be easy and relaxing. The body is preprogrammed and pre-conditioned to do a lot of activities which preserve its survival. On the other hand persisting abuse too conditions the body to do harm to itself. For example, subjecting your body to alcoholic or drug or other obsessive addictions. Easy to do but it does not mean good to you. What about writing? Is it good to a writer? The reward seems good, including monetary reward, recognition and esteem from others, a sense of self-achievement, a fulfillment of dreams, cultivating a good habit of using words and languages to communicate, self-therapy as an emotional outlet, counseling those who matter to you, positively speaking through writing to build up yourself and others, and many more (including telling someone how you really love them). For me? I started writing as a child as a venue to continue my story-telling habit (which started around the age of of four). I had lots of stories inside which demanded to burst out or I would explode. The newspaper got hold of them and paid me for writing serialized stories. I received fan mails from readers who did not know my real age (around 13-15 year old). Those who knew wanted to be my friends. A few classmates of the opposite sex volunteered to copy my handwritten stories so they looked presentable before I posted them to the editor. My family members treated me like a special guest in the house and exempted me from housework. I had the extra money to buy books to read and keep. I got to travel to another bigger town to sight-see. I can recall many benefits for a young person as a writer. Was it ever a deliberate choice? How did I know I could write? I do not remember choosing writing as a career. I wanted to be an architect. Later I chose two entirely different consecutive professional careers ad made a success out of them. In my real profession I write too, usually work and industry related factual scientific analytical papers, reports and even manuals . I did not know that I could write until grade four. One day I read an article written by my sister who is six years my senior and in grade 12. She wrote well. I thought to myself I too wanted to write like that. So I did. Thus I started my lifelong habit, hobby and lifestyle as a writer. My peers, teachers, and editors affirmed and liked what I wrote as a young person. Their recognition and positive encouragement gave me the motivation and momentum on this narrow path. I started by writing stories and later poetry. As a young adult I reverted to fiction-stories again. I have been an avid reader all my life. That helps too. Come to think of it, I cannot remember spending any day without reading and writing. That is why I equate writing with breathing. You do not choose. You just do it. Likewise, a flower does not need to be told to bloom. It just blooms.
p/s: I had a few editor friends who willingly published my work without question. Later a new acquaintance read something I wrote and asked to read my whole published portfolio of newspapers clippings. She then took the initiative to show them to the chief editor of a big publishing firm. The editor immediately called me for an interview and this introducer accompanied me to see the editor. The rest is history.