That is the question.
I've decided that it's time to make my formerly unknown presence available to the world at large. Although I have no high expectations of a crowd flocking to my doorstep nor hanging upon every word, I figured it can't hurt. So where to begin? Well as a story teller at heart, I suppose I should start at the beginning, run through the middle, and then stop.
I was born and raised in Detroit with my younger brother and sister. Growing up in a Catholic school, complete with nuns, did one thing if it did nothing else. I learned that hard work and dedication paid off. And in case they didn't, I discovered the side of my head could be used to stop chalk dusted blackboard erasers when a certain teacher grew tired on my talking out of turn and hurled them across the classroom.
From that tender age, I wanted to be a writer, or at least a teller of stories. So, it was no surprise to me that I carried this belief into adulthood. Unfortunately, along the way I met life. That old battle axe, ball and chain of fun and adventure, beat me down for a long time. Her not-so-soft caress taught me to be complacent with what I had. Even so, that was never good enough for me.
I started writing my first novel at the age of 14... and again at 19... and again at 25... and again at 37. I had never written past a few thousand words. A funny thing happened on the way to creating the Great American Novel. You guessed it - life reared her ugly head again. On April 4, 2010, I started once again drafting my brilliant work of staggering genius. (I love that phrase from Randy Ingermanson. If you have not read his blog, I highly recommend you do.) I believed myself serious this time, but I still muddled through the pages as I'd always done, despite my best intentions. Until. On May 16, 2010, the head boss in my corporate office called the entire staff into a meeting where the CEO's crackling voice echoed through a poor phone connection into the office's PA system. His announcement that our business center would be downsized by the end of the year brought a normally work happy environment to a dead stop. On May 17, 2010, I committed myself to completing the novel I had started.
Since that time, I've clacked away on my keyboard and scribbled countless pages of notes and longhand story fragments. A little at a time, I will complete my story and be proud to say I'm a successful writer. Whether or not the world races to build up my ever growing ego is yet to be seen. But regardless, there's a pride that only artists, writers, poets, and the like feel when their work is perfect in their own minds. I'm looking forward to that moment in mine.
If you've happened here by luck or chance, feel free to leave a comment. If I'm only doing this blog for my own amusement, well then, I'll be in great company. Since time is a commodity that I rarely see, I suppose I'll begin with weekly posts centered on my journey as a writer and what I've learned during that week about the craft and business of writing. Sounds like fun. I can't wait to get started.