Why do we do it? N M Browne

 Sometimes the sheer number of books is overwhelming. 

There’s all the famous old stuff, the canon of English Literature and stuff that if it isn’t qite canon so many people have read, then all the new stuff, the prize winning stuff and the stuff written by my friends which is sometimes the same stuff. There’s all the stuff I just love to read because it takes me somewhere else and all the stuff you can buy for a song at a charity shop, the free books on kindle and the not-very-expensive-under- the-price -of -a -glass -of -wine books that you can have right now on your phone. There is such a morass of material, the question has to be asked: why write another one?

I mean perhaps some people think they might write another book that is unlike any that has ever been written before, that says something that has never been said in words never before used to quite that effect. Maybe some people trust that their book will join the new canon of great works of the twenty first century. Maybe they have some burning insight to share, some unique experience, or come from a group of people whose voices have never been heard.

 If like me you feel none of the above, then it is hard to answer the question in any way that makes sense. Why do we do it? 

I suppose it’s a kind of an itch. Once you have written one novel the possibility of another is always there, and the promise of its existence will irritate you until you scratch it. Of course it matters what happens to it afterwards, but just bringing a story into existence is something in itself: art for art’s sake?