For as far back as I can remember in my life, I have always loved writing. I was told that I started writing at only 8 months. No joke. With freshly sharpened pencil in hand, my mom would provide the muscle behind my words. In school, I found myself drawn to any class, any assignment or any project that involved writing. I was that "nerdy kid" in the class that loved to write papers. Now math...science...a different story. And not one that will be told here.
In my single digits and beyond, my family would embark on multi-week road trips in the summer and I would document every last detail with whatever new writing utensil and fresh paper I had purchased for just such an occasion. I was in love with everything written from the perfect pen to the perfect paper and everything in between.
Into my teens, a stereotypical tumultuous and hormonal time, I expressed myself by keeping a journal. I preferred not to call it a diary as that came with it it's own negative connotations and I didn't want to taint my writing with that label. It was much more than a diary. It, like a picture for a photographer, was the window into my world. Into the world. The only world I knew up to that point in time.
Throughout the course of my writing life, I've always had books in my head. Various tales, both non-fiction and fiction. Dramatic and serene. But not until now have I felt compelled enough to put it down on paper and share it with others.
I've spent the last 35 years doing research that has led me to this point. Writing and publishing my own work. Join me in this journey, won't you?
In my single digits and beyond, my family would embark on multi-week road trips in the summer and I would document every last detail with whatever new writing utensil and fresh paper I had purchased for just such an occasion. I was in love with everything written from the perfect pen to the perfect paper and everything in between.
Into my teens, a stereotypical tumultuous and hormonal time, I expressed myself by keeping a journal. I preferred not to call it a diary as that came with it it's own negative connotations and I didn't want to taint my writing with that label. It was much more than a diary. It, like a picture for a photographer, was the window into my world. Into the world. The only world I knew up to that point in time.
Throughout the course of my writing life, I've always had books in my head. Various tales, both non-fiction and fiction. Dramatic and serene. But not until now have I felt compelled enough to put it down on paper and share it with others.
I've spent the last 35 years doing research that has led me to this point. Writing and publishing my own work. Join me in this journey, won't you?