It’s that time again. Today is the anniversary of me starting to seriously consider myself an aspiring writer nine years ago. This post, like the one last year and the ones in the future (I’ve decided) will pretty much deliver the same history of how I started, and how I’ve changed as a person from the year before.
Since August 2006, I had a vision while dozing in the backwoods of Washington, near Mt. St. Helens. In the back seat of the car we rented, with a flitting image of matchstick pines running past my window, I saw out of a darkness a boy swathed in a whirlwind of fire he controlled. It was blinding. A surge of realization came out of nothing into possibility. This became the inspiration for a story that would be the grandfather of all stories I composed thereafter. I have long since abandoned it, for personal reasons, and will only refer to this boy as the Flare Saint.
In my abandonment, it is not a tragedy but a spreading of new seeds to grow. The Flare Saint became the soil I needed for other ventures to grow. He lives on in fragments through other characters and plots, not forgotten but celebrated. Without the Flare Saint, I would not have learned what it took to write not one novel but three fully fledged tombs with plans for eight installments. I understood the kind of dedication, tenacity, and love required to be a storyteller from this experience. Armed with this knowledge, I set out on an exploration of what other stories I can generate. After devoting nearly five years just to one plot line, it was like stepping out of a tunnel onto a ledge and seeing a vast expanse of land previously unknown to me.
When I started out, I found writing to be an extension of myself. It was a way for me to live out experiences I knew I never could in reality. It was an escape, as it is for most of us. It was also a motivator to contribute to a society stuffed with poor writers, poor influences, and misdirection. I wanted to make a mark, to mean something, unlike so many people who pass through this world without ever benefiting the larger environment they live in. These values have not changed and only grew in nine years. I have matured since then, gained wisdom from new experiences, and acquired a thirst to learn more about this world, so I may endeavor to create more.
Right now I feel very close to a landmark milestone in my writing career. I know I may have said that last year, but I still feel it’s true withevery passing year. Project Stripes, recently, has taken a major turn in my editing of it. I have re-imagined the story in a way I never thought possible and have plans to see it grow with the additions and changes I want to make. It’s a promising time inside my head. I know that with humility and confidence, I can achieve all I desire. It’s just a matter of time…