Why I Became a Writer

I love stories. I had a love-hate relationship with books for years, but once I understood just how incredible they are, I was hooked. I went from never touching one to carrying one with me all the time (in the pre-digital days, no less). When it became apparent that though teachers wanted me to expand my mind with reading, they didn't care for me to do so during class, I learned to entertain myself through the more mind-numbing moments of life by escaping into worlds I created. Even as an adult, if you see me in a meeting and I look a little glazed, I’m most likely playing in some fantasyland.

 

When I was a teen, I thought about becoming a writer and even took a stab at writing a book. It was a historical fiction based on the life of an ancestor of mine in the mid-1800s, which I realize now was way too big of a project for a kid, let alone a first attempt at writing anything outside of school. But at the time I didn’t know any better and failed spectacularly at it. I never even got through the first chapter, which took me weeks to craft. (I do have tentative plans at trying it again sometime, but not in the near future.)

 

Zoom forward several years and I got caught up in the business of trying to figure out my career path. College was focused mostly on classes that pushed my degree forward. I continued reading tons and creating worlds in my mind, but writing was forgotten. Then life happened and I found myself laid up for a month with an injury. After the boredom set in, I decided, "what the hey, why don't I try writing down one of my stories?" I still remember clearly sitting in my bed with a yellow pad -of paper propped up on my knee, pen in hand as I started to map out the beginnings of my first book.

 

After that, it’s become a passion for me. I love sculpting phrases from a few words strung together. I love creating characters and seeing what mischief they could get themselves into. And most of all, I love creating a story that could capture someone's imagination as thoroughly as other authors had captured mine.

 

It’s taken me a few years after that to get things in order enough to publish. Grad school and careers and a myriad of other things kept getting in the way, but I finally reached a point where I had something worthwhile to publish.

 

So, that’s my story. I don’t think it’s particularly exciting or unique. I probably should have jazzed it up by adding an explosion or two in it, but there you go.

Just some random photos of me as a kid. Wasn't I cute?! What happened...?