Yesterday my son received the writing prompt "A picture tells a thousand words." He responded by taking a photograph of himself burning the assignment, writing 999 words describing what led to the incendiary act, including excoriations of artifice, pretentious performance art, and his mother's computer incompetence arising from antiquity. That's my boy.

Years ago, I vowed to never write about writing, a process narcissistic enough without insisting others examine the mirror. Not that I haven't been tempted. Some days I resemble a child talking to grandma on the phone, desperately seeking topics while looking around the room. Have I written about lamps yet? Once you write about writer's block, you've lost your last safety net.

However, having received a request from YourHub.com's Steve Shultz preparing a writing presentation, I feel freed to discuss Why I Write, which may or may not inspire the same interest as my dad's description of his latest bowel movement.

Every cell in my body wants to declare "I don't know," suggesting uncovering my true motivation requires years of therapy. Is writing therapy? Writers probably challenge actors, inventors and psychological theorists for the Most Likely to Be Quirky yearbook designation. Or maybe these vocations just better reveal idiosyncrasies.

As a blogger, my goal is communicating the commonality of human experience, how we interrelate, especially in the ultimate paradox: We are all connected by sharing our individual isolation. Nothing personifies this more than blogging. I will sit alone at a computer, hopefully writing something that makes someone I never met think: I recognize that. I remember something like that happening to me. That's exactly what I was thinking. I never thought about it that way, but yeah, life is like that, isn't it? Actually, stand-up comedy provokes a similar effect.

The writer and the reader have a relationship, which is why I avoid phrases like "That's not what I meant" or "I didn't write that" to someone's reaction. People often reveal more than they intend and writers are no exception. I believe a successful piece of writing allows readers to insert their perspectives. The beauty of blogging is the writer has the opportunity to experience the reader through comments without suffering a grueling book tour schedule.

Comments don't just validate someone is listening, but allows the writer to feel the same "I never looked at it that way" epiphany. The monologue becomes dialogue. Although I really hate when people start calling each other names.

Isn't this weighty for someone who writes about the mundane, ideally making others laugh about its absurdity? Maybe I should burn this assignment.