The beautiful thing about writing is that it’s one of the only true things left to do.
If the writer creates honest prose – not for profit, or because it is marketable – but because it is the only way to establish what is real; what matters; what really happened, then the writer has done well.
Editors may change it and committees would certainly destroy it, given the chance.
But that is not why a writer sits down at the kitchen table every night and scribbles out sentences; crosses out entire paragraphs; looks up old memories and researches new places.
A writer writes because there is a story to tell, and only one way to tell it quite right.
And that is a beautiful thing.