Writing = escapism? Not necessarily.

I've occasionally been asked whether the act of writing is a form of escapism.  Escapism covers a rather large arena that involves questions such as, "Is one escaping to, from, or with?"

For this writer, it's more of a case of being abducted by an idea, a mental image, or even just a single word.  For me, there is a click, "You will now write ... " and I obey.  

This works well, as I have sited before, when I can stop what I'm doing and write, at least, a memo for later reference, but when I have to put it off, it relentlessly teases.

My muse tends towards impatience, however, and when I have held off from complying for a tad too long, that which I was to write evaporates.

I cannot assume that this is so for other writers, but once I focus on "it," all else bleeds away to the very edges of my mind, and I become a willing captive.

So, I would have to say that my writing is not a vehicle of escapism.  Instead, I would call it a portal to an alternative, autonomous reality.

And it is a very communal one.  Despite how I may appear to outsiders while thus engaged, I am most positively not alone in this writer's realm.

My muse is ever present here, occupying me with all manner of oblique intangibles, which I become obsessively driven to collate into proper form.

There is nothing else quite like having access to such an expansive, creative, and fulfilling cosmos as this.  I do not escape to writing; I am seduced by it.