When I first saw the question of defending a vice raised in Plinky, I thought it was one I couldn't really answer.
I mean, I don't have many "conventional" vices. I don't drink… smoke… habitually chew gum… eat organic food… anything like that.
(I do bite my nails, but that would be a rather boring subject to write about.)
Writing has been a habit of mine for some time, but unlike most proper vices, it is destined to long bouts of non-existence due to my moods.
I'm not sure quite when I discovered the strange draw that writing had for me… I remember getting my very first pink diary for my birthday when I was about 8 years old. I still have it tucked away somewhere.
At one point during a turbulent period of my teen years, I was going for counseling. I actually used to journal and then bring my journal in for my counselor to read. I knew that my written thoughts, as preserved in the moment, would be much more honest than the watered down version I would recount orally, after thinking about it all week.
Now, not as much of my writing is done the old-fashioned way, with pen or pencil and paper. Instead, I find myself glued before this glowing computer screen, sometimes even into the wee hours of the morning.
Sometimes I think that it is a waste of time for me to write. I wonder if anyone really wants to read my thoughts and if my style and grammar are incorrigible… but then I come to a place where I almost don't care.
After all I write for myself, as well as for others.