In sixth grade, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I replied, "A novelist." I wrote short stories all of the time. Stories about spies hunting down IRA bombers. Rangers traversing a fantasy landscape for a magic spell. Heavy, heavy nerd shit. With age came responsibility and work and school moved to the forefront and the well of creativity seemed to run dry.
In college, as my taste in comic books matured with the discovery DC's Vertigo imprint and edgier indie comics, I fancied myself a comic book writer, the desire to form stories and forge characters returned . Twenty-five issues of a man who discovers a life he had forgotten. Four issues and wealth of character background about a team up third-string superheroes tired of taking other super-teams' leftovers. Life became a challenge, the ennui of post-graduate life took hold, and again, the drive to write faded.
2007. Mistakes changed my life for ever and in the end for the better. However, to make it through and accept the confusion, anger, sadness, and remorse, I turned to the catharsis of writing. Battling agoraphobia, I harnessed that fear of the public into a story of survival in a world where people feed on people. Resolute in addressing my problems with the truth, I began writing a story of a con-man who becomes lost in his lie. Lastly, following the greatest of heartbreaks, the story of two men, lost and without direction in place unfamiliar.
From passion to discovery to understanding, writing has always been integral in my life. Witnessing the nearly unbearable creativity and talent of my friends, I feel that, more than ever, the need to create has been lacking in life. This picture is of that tale of survival written above. The first draft was completed in 2007. Other first drafts have been wrapped up in 2008, 2009, and 2010. It's time to make more.
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