Love of Writing

Alrighty then, where to start?

First and foremost, I posted a story on here titled "In the headlights of an '87 Buick", and I just want to say to all of you who actually read the piece of shit that I'm sorry for posting it. I read over the first few pages the other day and was aghast at how terrible it was. Some might say "it's really good though." And I'd probably just laugh, the story was alright, but the characters were lifeless as hell. I wrote it last year, apparently when I didn't know much about writing. As of late my nose has been buried in books and my fingers have been dancing across my keyboard in hopes of getting better, and I feel that I am. I now attack writing with such ferocity that it exhilarates me. I've been working on making my characters more three-dimensional and different ways to structure my stories in hopes that one day I will be the best. It's really true what they say (whoever they are) that you really only do get better by writing.

Failure is another way of learning, a couple weeks back I opened my email just before bed and there was a message in my inbox from Weird Tales, telling me how sorry they were that they couldn't accept my submission of '87 Buick. If you think I was devastated you're wrong bucko, I was overjoyed my first real rejection letter, that's one under my belt, I remember thinking that I can only get better and the next day I sat down at with my lap top and attacked the story I had been working on at the time with a viscous determination that the this one would be a feature story somewhere.

My love for writing? Where did it come from? Well I think it was rejuvenated this Christmas when I opened up a gift from my mother; it was Stephen King's new tomb Under the Dome. I mean this thing is the size of a fucking doorstop, it started out fast and I felt my heart racing while I read the damn thing. It started out one-hundred miles an hour and I remember thinking there is no way that he could keep the pace but he did. I had nightmares of being trapped inside and dealing with all of the crazy shit that was going on in the book. If you haven't read that book, go out and pick a copy up. It has come close to being one of my favourite King novels. (The Stand is still my favourite by far!) Anyway while I was reading Under the Dome I realized something, I want to do that, I want to make your hearts race while reading my stories, I want to send you to slumber land, have my monsters take over your dreams and make you wake up screaming at night with sweat on your brow. I realized something else right after that; I will do that one day.

So I went about doing it, I opened a note book I had and started to write stories every morning and haven't stopped. I feel that I'm finally getting the knack for the craft and really enjoy weaving the story lines together. I used to want become a great story teller and had this hope in the back of the mind that with some sort of magic it would get itself done, but then it dawned on me the only magic in story telling is the way your fingers tell what your brain is seeing. I'd get discouraged way back when and would give up after thirty minutes of writing, now however I will write until my fingers cry for a break and my coffee turns cold, I'll walk my dog and then go back to it. One day when my books are on the bestseller's list those of you who read this can say, "Hey, I read his blog from when he was just starting out" Or some shit like that, anyway I'm outta here my dog is crying at me and crossing her legs, I guess that means she needs to piss.

Thanks for reading friends.

J.