Right Words

Good evening.

It’s evening for me.

Please, don’t be that person who’s like, “Its 12:01a.m. It’s tomorrow.”

Nobody laughs at that joke.

So, good evening.

I was instructed to follow some topics for blogging. Structure. It’s good for us… some say. And yes, when Haley and Tiarra get their moment to guest blog, they will tell you that I begged for their help. I did by the way. But I tell you, it is an exaggeration.

In that case, a story about me and how I became a writer is something that would bore you. I promise.

I sat in front of many different models of computers between the years of 2006 until now, and I now have an ass that can rest perfectly flush with a 2×2, quarter-inch piece of particleboard. That’s as exciting as I can make it.

Somewhere in all this time, I have found a true love for the craft. I love looking for the right words. I love finding the right words. I love “feeding my muse” with the copious amounts of books I read. I love listening to music and letting it inspire scenes I write. I love whiskey. I love French Fries. I love Kurt Sutter, and Chuck Palahniuck, and Steinbeck, and Melville. I love Jane Austin, and Ayn Rand.

I love sitting down after I have had a cheese quesadilla and opening my journal of all my world’s lore and creating something new.

And I love it when people read that and enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it.

Writing is not just a love for your work, but also a love to share it with those who love your work.

And the funny part of that is, if my house is empty and the dogs aren’t barking at any of the neighbors’ dogs, I can sit and produce for hours. With whiskey and french fries, of course.

Well, shit… now I’m going to get some french fries.