I know what you’re thinking: what’s a guy like me doing with a blog like this? Well, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered the same thing. But these things all start the same, don’t they? A witty phrase here, a clever line there–then one day you wake up and find out you’re a writer.
I’ve chased a lot of dreams over the years. Even caught one or two. Got my first story published in the 4th grade, first book published when I was 29. But in between? Well, that’s a roller coaster with loose rivets, pal. Real loose. Wrote for my college newspaper, reviewing movies for Transformers money. Toiled away my weekends at a small town video store just to make ends meet. There was an ice cream shop in there somewhere, another video store, serving and bartending on a ski hill in the Great White North. Strange apartments, strange situations, and some of the best friends I guy could ever have.
And, like most of these stories, mine had a dame or two. Each one of them a scar on the old ticker. But if every nibble turned out to be a trophy, you’d never be a great fisherman.
That’s a metaphor about heartbreak making you a better writer.
But this wasn’t about a girl, or a story, or that summer I lived in my cousin’s haunted basement, scraping spiders off the cool underside of my pillow. No, this was about a blog. A collection of thoughts from a guy with a simplicity complex. A mystery, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in one of those things a spring roll comes in. If you’re looking for the meaning of life, well, you won’t find it here.
For that, you’ll have to wait for my next book.
The Guy Who Writes
< Creative Influences >