My daughter recently approached me, a novel in hand, asking what a certain phrase meant. Had the problem involved only a single word, I’d have encouraged her to look it up in the dictionary. We would then have discussed the meaning of the word, making sure she understood it both standing alone and in the context of the sentence.

     In this case, however, she understood the words, but not the phrase comprised of them. I explained said phrase. After a moment’s pause, she turned to face me and said that writers shouldn’t put words in books that kids can’t understand.

     Well, you can imagine what a discussion that started!

     I asked my daughter how she would have become as intelligent as she is had she never come across nor investigated new phrases? I do not believe that writers should abandon a rigorous vocabulary simply because they are writing to children, and I told her as much. Kids are not so delicate as to require familiar words and phrases day in and day out. As a child, I loved coming across new words. It was like meeting a stranger, who then became a friend, who then became a part of my life. I would try to make my new friend part of my lexicon.

     Longer books without higher vocabulary? As a writer, that makes for awfully nondescript writing. As a child, it makes for overly-simple reading.

     I’m willing to bet that within a week, she’ll use that new phrase … and smile while she’s doing it.

     I read a thread on a discussion board recently that got me chewing over a question. The question was, “What motivates you to write?” I was as intrigued by the answers as by the question.

     Two respondents admitted that ego had something to do with it (I found that to be an enlightening and honest answer), although it was not their primary reason. One liked the idea of being called an “author,” and so, I imagine, she wrote as a romantic ideal. She also liked the challenge of creating something worthy for publication. Another replied that, apparently, nothing motivated her.

     It’s a fair question to ask, why do you write? But how does one give only one answer? I have so many reasons why I write.

     I’d say I write because I enjoy the very process of writing. I love the sequencing of sentences, chapters, and story lines to create a smooth flow. I love developing new and intriguing worlds. I love giving voice to characters who are all my creation. I also write just to get better.

     I don’t write for my ego. After all, writing fiction opens a person up to a whole lot of ridicule if they’re not any good or they write things contrary to the belief system of friends and relatives. Nor does my ego get a boost from simply seeing words with my name attached to it. I’ve written and reported too many stories to walk out of the newsroom impressed simply by authorship. For me, writing a story well is much more impressive than simply possessing the byline.

     None of this is to say my motivation is any better or worse than anyone else’s. Still, it’s an interesting idea to chew on. Just why do writers write? Or do we, like the person responding to the thread, simply need no motivation at all?

     There are a lot of ways to tell a story. You can write reams and reams of text. You can condense to single lines of crisp copy. You can use slow, sweeping panoramas or quick, flashing images. You can employ breaks in scenes or breaks in audio. There are as many ways to tell a story as there are people telling it.

     That’s one, and just one, of the many, many reasons why it’s so hard for me to answer whether I like writing long prose more than writing broadcast news. It’s an impossible comparison. They are distinct media with different aims, different audiences, and different results.

     Is covering one hundred pages of paper more fulfilling than using one hundred seconds of America’s broadcast spectrum? Have I cheated the story in choosing one medium over another? Is there not merit in both visions? And, if backed into a corner, why must I declare allegiance to only one? Thankfully, I’m not forced to.

     I am blessed with the opportunity to tell people’s real-life stories in more than one way. I am equally blessed regarding my own make-believe stories. For what better opportunities could a writer ask?

     So when answering the question, “One hundred pages or one hundred seconds,” my answer can only be, gratefully, “Yes.”