I may be like millions of others who simply had to contribute in one way or another to their beloved art. My reasons for beginning to write years ago may be completely unique. But you don’t want that same, carbon copy bio you can find from any other author about why I started writing, so I sure as hell won’t talk about it here.
If I don’t write, I feel as though I might explode … or implode … whichever is worse. I’ll go a week without sitting in front of this screen and tiny fires break out behind my eyeballs. I have things to say, and creative ways to say them, so that’s why I do this. Besides writing fantasy and sci-fi, I like punching people and teaching them how to punch other people (okay, I enjoy kicking and armbarring them too). I headbang to metal, screaming along like a Kantus, and croon to progressive rock like a damn dove let out of a gorgeous cage on a beautiful, sun-clad day.
I once watched my best friend jump on the back of moving train just to slap some spray paint on it. I once proclaimed, “If I was a squid, I’d have wings,” whilst at a party that I definitely couldn’t walk out of, let alone drive away from (so I was responsible enough NOT to get behind the wheel). I once battled a piggly wiggly (ya know, those worm pig things from outer space) and claimed victory unscathed, my battleaxe sheathed in its neon-green blood. One of these three things are untrue. The piggly wiggly battle, however, definitely happened.
If you’ve managed to get through those enlightening 258 words, you should just keep on going. Snag one of my books. What’s another 100,000+ words, eh? You don’t need to go to work or out with friends or even make love, just read and all will be okay …
I’m going to go away now, since you’re not here anyway and have delved into one of my stories. Awesome.