I often feel compelled to write. The urge is stronger at different times based usually on external circumstances and their impact on my inner world. But when an idea is sparked there’s nothing that can extinguish it, it’s only practical logistics that stop me from putting pen to paper (or rather finger to keyboard). I often deal with any time delay from initial concept to getting into flow with a hasty iPhone note. I used to find interruptions frustrating but now I embrace them – it allows my thoughts to settle and start to solidify.

I’ve been told that this compulsion to create is a type of arrogance. I don’t think there’s any way of turning that word on its head and looking for a hidden positive meaning. I simply have to refute the claim. For me writing is at its most simplistic a case of being part of the ebb and flow of energy. Whether you consider the universe’s energy source as finite or not doesn’t really matter, a constant exchange is still happening.

Which leads me to discuss the concept of giving and taking, not just in writing but in other artforms as well. Frustratingly I hear the doubting voice accusing me of self-importance for considering the written word an artform, but let’s ignore that voice. I do believe that in writing you let go of a part of yourself however that in itself can be a gift. Output can be a release. Sometimes it just gets to the point when you have to break the dam.

I met classical pianist Christina McMaster recently who is taking an innovative approach to her genre of music by encouraging people to ‘lie down and listen’ – turning the way in which classical music is traditionally consumed on its head to create deeper resonance. We ended up having a conversation about financial reward versus personal fulfilment. How, in a world where making a living is a necessity we can’t afford to ignore, creating can offer, in Christina’s words, ‘a different kind of payment’, a nourishment for the soul you can’t put a price on.

So what does writing give me? I find it rather like alchemy. I don’t assume I will create precious metals, but I enjoy the process of mixing the base elements together and seeing what comes out even if, to quote Blackadder II, it's ‘a nugget of purest green’. The end result is often less important to me than the feeling of calm and purpose I encounter whilst going through the process of exploring a topic or theme.

I share my work with people not because I need to be part of an endless positive feedback loop but because I welcome individual reactions and am happy to be challenged. Someone was kind enough to tell me that various pieces of my writing had made her cry, reminisce, shriek with laughter and had given her a warm feeling. I see that as an achievement because it stirred emotions, not because I need to be accepted.

I believe in the human need for connection and feel strongly that writing, music, theatre, art and other creative forms are a means of bridging the gaps between us. They allow us to forge bonds via a shared experience or personal response. They allow us space to pause and consider, gain perspective and re-engage with one another and the world around us on a better footing. All the gold bullion in the world isn’t worth weighing in the balance against that.