It’s taken me a great deal of time and stupidity to get here.

At various times in my life, I was a vacuum cleaner salesman, a Marine, a computer trainer, and a blog consultant, among other things. You may know me from one of these previous lives, which is to say you don’t really know me at all. Blog consulting was my most recent gig and I let it go. Didn’t even say goodbye. Just let the domain expire. It’s all gone.

I always meant to be a writer but never had the courage. I was afraid of both success and failure at the same time. I needn’t have been afraid of failure, since I lost nearly everything, anyway.

And I was afraid of success because when story ideas would come to me or, when I wrote, the stories were never what I’d intended. I had this idea that I wanted to write the kind of book I’d like to read had I found it on the shelf at a bookstore. But the ideas coming to me were not those ideas. And when I sat down to write the text, I would be swept away in the experience and the characters would suddenly act of their own accord.

I wasn’t writing so much as channeling.

And it frightened me.

I’ve spent the past years of my life destroying myself (and hurting those around me in the process) to get myself to the point where I didn’t have a choice, anymore. It was either move forward with this or kill myself. Everything else is gone. I rather like living, despite all the regret and heartache, and I don’t believe in any kind of afterlife. If I were about to die, if I were on my deathbed, I would have no greater regret than failing to become the writer hidden within.  Because then I truly would have wasted my life.

I will not let that happen.

So starts a new chapter in the book of my life.



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