You shouldn’t. Nobody should.
In Greek mythology, the mortal Sisyphus thought he was more clever than the gods. In the afterlife, he was consigned to roll a rock up a hill, only for it to tumble down every time he approached his goal. Nobody “should” be a writer.
Note that I’m not answering the question “why should I write?” For example, my wife has published articles she’s written as a medical researcher, and they are as useful, interesting, and well-crafted as any novel or missive. But she’s not a writer. She’s a medical researcher who writes. The same could be said of many scientists, politicians, celebrities, and personalities, who write either as an ordinary component of their jobs, or because their careers have created an opportunity through writing. To be fair, we can also give a pass to writing hobbyists, from high-school poets to scrapbookers. If your writing is for fun, as a pastime, no worries. The opportunities of career writing and the joys of recreational writing are their own rewards. In these cases, the question answers itself.
My answer applies to vocational writers. To career writers. It assumes that when people ask you, “so what do you do?” you say (or want to say) “I’m a writer.” Nobody should be a writer. Let’s look as some of the major reasons people “are” writers:
- To be rich and famous. It’s an unlikely way to become famous and a downright stupid way to become rich. There are 300 million Americans and exactly one Stephen King. While he is an exceptional case, the tens of thousands of books you need to sell in order to support yourself as a writer make it hugely doubtful you’ll pay your rent, much less live in the penthouse. Even brand-name writers live relatively modest lifestyles. Other successful writers have to augment their income through teaching (another field which would-be writers tend to over-romanticize). Accept the facts: Even if you write brilliantly and market yourself effectively, the numbers are hard against you ever becoming a rich and famous writer.
- To “make a difference.” Charities and nonprofits can make a difference because they bring services to people badly in need of them. Businesses can make a difference because they interact with the local economy and create jobs and help build careers. Politicians and lawyers make a difference because they create the rules that bind our communities. Most of the “writing” that makes a difference does so in light of their work, ie. it is being created by nonprofits, businesses, and politicians, not by career writers. The odds of a career writer “making a difference” is not much better than getting rich or famous with your writing. And even if you do “make a difference” through your career writing, it’s a painfully inefficient and awkward way in which to do so. Accept the facts: Even if you’re an erudite and socially-sensitive writer, the numbers are hard against you improving the world through your writing alone.
- To be cultured and sophisticated. Again, it just isn’t worth the trouble. Career writing isn’t fun. There are inspirational flashes and moments of rapture, but these are rare and unexpected. Writing is a solitary act. You’ll spend hours every day alone in front of a computer screen or typewriter. You’ll produce something you think is remarkable only for people to shut it down or miss the point completely. You’ll spend days editing and proofing until a piece you originally wrote with love and energy feels threadbare and predictable. Think of it as listening to one of your favorite songs on repeat for six months, or seven years. If you want to be cultured or sophisticated, go to a museum or a concert. Read, and surround yourself with art and cultured, sophisticated people. Most of what writers do is creation and refinement through brute force and strength-of-will; it’s hard and monotonous. It’s not a good way to “plug in.” Accept the facts: There are easier and more enjoyable ways to become an informed, cultured, and sensitive citizen than by being “a writer.”
Now that I’ve got you good and depressed, I should point out that I’ve been a writer for over ten years, and I love it. It isn’t an enervating, dreary march toward obscurity and loneliness. It’s an invigorating, challenging life that keeps my mind active, my imagination sharp, and my budget thrifty. But I can only say these things because I am a writer for purely irrational reasons.
The only acceptable positive answer to the question “why should I be a writer?” is “because I have to be.” If you’ll be miserable unless you spend hours a day alone at the keyboard with nothing but your muse, then you should be a writer. If your writing is so important to your happiness that you’ll seek out constructive feedback even after the same friends seem to misunderstand and dislike your work, then you should be a writer. If you’re willing to deal with all the superficialities, and orneryness, and anxiety of advertising/publishing/promoting in exchange for the pure thrill of creating through words, then you should be a writer. And if years in and out of everything I’ve just mentined sounds like it would beat you down and wear you out, then for Godsakes, do something else. Don’t be a writer, because that’s really really really what writing is.
The only reason you should be a writer is if you can honestly ask the question “why must I be a writer?”