It is so easy to get caught up in the daily struggle of work, life, everything, etc., etc., etc., that we don't remember the real reasons why we do the things we do.
Ten years ago, I got a letter in the mail from a child. Aside from making me cry a little, it reminded me exactly why I do what I do, why I write stories for children.
I kept that letter with me in my writing book for a long time. Years, actually, until one day, I couldn't find it. I was heartbroken that I'd lost it, for it had become my talisman in dark writing times. Because I had the strength of this one letter, I must be doing something right. It had become my flashlight. My lightsaber (and you know how I feel about those!!) And I had lost it.
And then a few days ago I was cleaning out a bookshelf and a white paper floated to the ground.
And that is why I do what I do.