Why do I write? Well, I tried playing the lottery to become rich and famous. Living at the Four Seasons in New York City and jet setting to exotic places around the world while surviving on haute cuisine and room-service, seemed to be an appropriate way to spend my time. But, the lottery? That seemed WAY too easy. I want risk and adventure! So I decided I must pursue my dreams the hardest way possible. Nothing good comes easy right? And what path, pray tell, has the least odds of monetary success? Well writing of course! So here I am, pursuing my dreams by walking the hardest and most bumpiest path I could fathom.
Yeah ok, you caught me. That’s not quite the reason why I write, but it’s a nice cover story. I’ve been keeping a journal since my early teens, and we are going to pretend that wasn’t very long ago. When thoughts piled up in my head, I’d put them on paper, it was the best way I knew how to clear my mind. I didn’t study writing, not on my own or the conventional way of schooling. I did, on the other hand, take a personal interest in spirituality and different religions and spent a good part of my twenties studying them on my own time. This left me with a whole lot more of those pesky thoughts that needed to be written down.
I started writing novels and short stories here and there. Then I would abandon them to the calls of life, work and so on. To make a long story short, or well, less long… after my sister’s murder the thoughts became overbearing. They NEEDED to get out. It wasn’t pesky little nagging voices anymore, more like screaming banshees stuck in a blender. There was no more work to be done, not much of a life to get in the way anymore, finally I didn’t just need to write, I had TIME to write.
So here I am, writing my little heart out – or more appropriately, writing the screaming banshees out. Oh, and well, being an avid reader has played a pretty important role in my choices as well.