I reached a pretty significant goal yesterday. I reached the 40 thousand word mark in the novel that I’m writing. This has become something that I am fully committed to and in many cases I cannot believe I didn’t start writing like this sooner. I feel that I am finally doing the one thing that I always wanted to do and that is write a book.

When I look back at certain points of my life, I can see that just about every creative thing I have done has lead me here. In grammar school, I wrote a story that involved my classmates turning into werewolves. I enjoyed that people read it and liked it. That was my first stab at writing anything in the first person. The years leading into high school I created a whole universe filled with superhero characters. They were completely diverse in origin, ethnicity, and gender. I had the comics titled, numbered, and a synopsis written for each one. I wanted to be a comic book writer.

Of course growing up and having people tell me that writing comics was not a good way to earn a living led me to doubt myself, but at the very least I was able to graduate with a bachelors in English. Despite everything, writing was still came very easy to me. When people were stressing finals, I was writing papers and I enjoyed it. But I still remember the voices of people suggesting that writing should not be the way to go, so the only thing I could do was put it in the back burner and make it a hobby.

As most of you know, four years ago I started a blog and the rest is history. What I find interesting is that I have a clear goal to get this book done and I have written way too much to stop now, but I still think about that black and white composition notebook that has all my notes in them. I think about the journals that I kept in High School through all the pains of my parents divorce and all the frustrations of the bullies. I think about how I may have spent most of my life preparing myself for what I am doing right now.

I now laugh at the notion that comic book writers do not get paid much. Maybe they don’t but when you do something that you love, is it really work? I have worked at places that are unsatisfying and it can suck. I now look at the body of my work and I realized that I have done short stories, narratives, essays, poetry, blogs, articles, and screen plays. This need to be creative with words has always been inside of me. I just made the mistake of listening to the naysayers.

I still have those composition notebooks. I still have the those journals that I kept in high school that detailed the issues I went through in my younger days. I am not saying that I have led a tragic life, I just think that I have fuel to create stories in which I can draw from experience.


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