Writing's in my blood

For as long as I can remember the written word has been an integral part of my life.  My love affair started as a toddler with a little desk my mom got me.  It had a magnetic board with an almost infinite bucket of plastic letters.  I would play “homework”, putting together words and basic sentences.  I devoured all the Dr. Seuss/Berenstain Bears/Etc. books I could get my hands on, shooting several reading levels past my peers before even enrolling in school.

I made my first book in the third grade complete with illustrations, cover art and a slot for the library checkout card.  It was called “The Pyramid Makers”.  A lot of people died in it and one page was illustrated with a giant pool of blood.  Horror was a fave early on.  In the fourth grade I wrote my first short story titled “Fright Night” (no relation to the film). My love of stories only continued to grow as I voraciously devoured books from all genres.  When that wasn’t enough I dug into comics, television, movies, role playing games, everything and anything that had a narrative to share.

As with many passions we have early on, life has a habit of getting in the way.  First it was school, then it was work.  One thing after another giving me less time to indulge or explore.  We end up forgetting what truly makes us tick, instead replacing it with what we think we “should” be doing as adults.  Some people never come to the realization, continuing to trudge through a path not of their own.  Others, luckier or smarter than us, never deviate from their passions incorporating them into their day to day lives.

Finally there are those like myself that need to make the change after having chosen the tread worn path.  I’ve been running on autopilot for many years now, mostly out of necessity in order to achieve success in my career.  Every so often I’d dip my toe back into something that would connect me to the joys of my past.  A good book or a moving film would open the doors, just a crack, giving me a taste of what I was missing.

Recently I had the floodgates ripped wide open, tapping into pure unadulterated happiness.  Through a series of events I ended up discovering a horror convention in my back yard (Fangoria), getting a free weekend pass and signing up for a workshop with one of my favorite authors, Clive Barker.  The two hours spent with him was an informal conversation between him and us.  I really got a sense of the man, a gifted artist who’s success has been a struggle against those wanting to change his vision.  Still full of tales he is someone who could never be anything other than a creative force; writing, painting, and directing in an attempt to get it all out before his time is up.  Sharing that space with him was one of the best experiences of my life, as a writer, a reader and one who strives to create in his lifetime.

If you don’t believe me you can see for yourself.  They’d have to use a chisel to get that smile off my face.  For the record, similarities in hairstyle and clothing were completely unintentional.  I am not pulling a “Single White Female”.

That day not only supercharged me, but answered many unspoken questions I had in regards to my becoming a writer.  I realized I had the skill and the tools to be successful, I just needed the dedication and the mindset.  That’s what led me to start this blog, under my own name.  No pseudonyms or hiding behind false anonymity. These are my words, which are as much a part of me as my flesh.

I will stop denying my own inner talents, allowing myself to deviate from a path that even though lucrative is not my real passion.  An effort will be made to swing the pendulum back from the burned out technology side and into the joy of creation.  With balance re-established I’ll hopefully find the fun in my current endeavors that has been missing for quite some time, letting me continue with the present while building toward my true future.

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Tagged as: Clive Barker, Fangoria, Goals, Happiness, Workshops