When I was younger, I was the kid who loved to read. I was not the daring kid who jumped around on rocks or climbed trees. Hell, I was the kid who stood out from everyone else because I had flat feet and couldn't wear sneakers. I was the kid wearing orthopedic shoes with a stacked heel at the age of four and five while riding my Big Wheel. I couldn't climb a fence or pull myself up onto a tree branch.
There was one thing I loved. I loved being lost in my imagination. It started with my mom or dad reading to me. I had dozens of Little Golden Books and my mom would read them to me as I studied the pictures. Between the books and Electric Company and other outlets, I learned how to read. I advanced quickly.
Not long after that, I was reading books for kids much older than me. I was reading novels for kids in junior high when I was in third and fourth grade. By the time sixth grade came around, I was reading Stephen King books and stuff for adults.
When I was in junior high and high school, and the nerdy fat kid too afraid to ask a girl out, it was books that got me through. It was books that gave me solace and books that I could get lost in and forget the things around me. It was my imagination, fueled by reading books, that allowed me to forget I was a nobody and picked on and being told I was unpopular and a nerd and a million other things.
People wonder why I want to write for a living. I am sure more than a few of them assume it's an "easy job" even though I can tell you it is not. Just trying to do it part-time is exhausting. Working as a writer for a company and trying to be creative wears me out. It's why I work on my books and novels on weekends, early in the morning and during my lunchtime. By the time I get home,, my brain is so worn out I can barely sit and watch TV without falling sound asleep.
I want to entertain people, sure. There is a bit of narcissism thrown into it, too. The idea people want to read my stories is just a bit selfish, but I get enough people telling me they like my stories that this reason keeps me going.
The fact is, I also want to inspire other people. I want other people to be inspired by what I write. I know there are other weirdos out there. Kids, both male and female, who want to find that solace of sinking into a good book. They want to get lost in the story, live through the characters. They want to be excited and thrilled by the scares and thrills I put into my books.
I think about that, sometimes. The excitement and thrill I got when I had a new book to read. How I would study the covers and then opening to those first chapters. To feel the joy of the story grabbing me and pulling me into the novel until I wanted to spend every free moment just reading and turning pages until I reached the end. Then the sadness and sense of loss that the story was over.
It was the thing that got me through those lonely times. It was the thing I could count on when I was feeling depressed and sad. When everyone else was going to homecoming dances, dating or prom, I could always count on my books and stories.
It was part of what made me want to write. It is still what fuels me. It is my hope that even just one or two people will read my work and decide they will want to write, too. Perhaps they will be better than me, more successful, but maybe always remember the novel they read with my name attached. Thus, the storytelling continues, further inspires, and the world continues to have stories.
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