Why I Write

As far back as I could remember, I always wanted to write.

I would be composing stories as early as 4th grade, a few pages of truncated plots from movies I had watched on video. I vaguely remember doing tweaks to stuff like The Neverending Story or Cloak & Dagger. With these stories, I would have accompanying illustrations. To me, the thought of being paid to write out my thoughts and create was the best job ever. I remember reading the old adage of practice, practice, practice as well as write what you know. I would try and form a habit of getting stuff down on paper, a notepad on hand to write thoughts or ideas. I even went so far as to have a micro cassette recorder as a fail safe measure should I had forgotten the pad and paper.

As I got older though, the changes I went through at adolescence were crippling at times. A new state and completely different environment just offset these quiet rage filled diatribes to paper. Watching grotesque and disconnected action extravaganzas from the 80's weren't beneficial, as I would supplant the image of the bad guy being filled with hot death, courtesy of a semi automatic weapon with a magazine of endless ammunition, with the image of some class mate I didn't like. It's not that I outwardly hated on someone in those days, I would internalize the things I found grating and mean, and turn it into art. Violent nonsensical art, but it was the only coping mechanism I knew that worked. I'm too much of a pacifist to take aggression out with clenched fists and a furrowed brow garbling something incomprehensible. I'd sooner put to death someone with a series of sentences than a flurry of fists.*

*and for someone who is using some form of gun play in much of his fiction, I have an unease with firearms. No, seriously. This, despite the fact I live in an area that cherishes firearms as much if not more so than their own child, is somewhat humorous.

When I got finished with my senior year of high school. I had amassed nearly 300 pages of a story that had no end. This was due to the fact I never formally outlined any story ahead of time or thought out characters and their motivations properly. As such, there would be wild swings in behavior on the page amongst characters that seemed rather schizophrenic if not multiple personality. During my first year in college, I would work on a manuscript that accumulated 100+ pages of flights of fancy and macabre imagery. It didn't quite work out, though, there were parts that sang like a brassy vocalist in a jazz orchestra.

It was through an extended correspondence with a friend I made in Hollywood, where I found my niche. Shorter in my case was better, according to Dawn, who even sent me links to submissions online. Through my syntax and word play, I was able to do some free lance copy writing. That was some of the best times I had.*

*It may explain my joy of watching Mad Men. Working for a client and being paid to be creative. Sans the 60's wardrobe

Now, my goal still remains the same. I would love to be able to be published or feel as if I'm a significant contributor to something. I want to be at least one person's immediate destination when I put up something new. Feedback and advice is needed and desired. Mostly though, I do this as a release of emotions. I tend to internalize things too much. I think back to a lament by Tony Soprano wondering why more people didn't pattern themselves after Gary Cooper. The strong stoic type. I work every day to not let any negative energy disrupt my balance. I wear my emotions sometimes on my sleeve, and it gets messy sometimes. Writing to me is a conduit for the things that build inside that needs an immediate release. It's one of the greatest gifts to have when you exercise it properly. It's a blessing when someone feels it, relates to what your saying, and appreciates your contribution.

This is why I write...