First and foremost I want to say thank you for stopping by, subscribing and taking a chance on a first time author.
Second, this last year has been pretty crazy huh? I had a long winded semi-poetic paragraph written for you, but the madness and chaos around us has just made me way too stressed out to make any attempts at being profound. However I want to tell you a story, a short one about a chunky little ginger kid, who got picked on for having a big mouth, couldn't make a free throw and had a tough time keeping up in class. Well that kid spent most of his life not knowing what he wanted to do and spent the rest of the time daydreaming about being a knight fighting dragons, or a space pirate adventuring across the stars. Eventually that kid grew up, went to school and did everything he could to figure out what he was supposed to be. That kid was obviously me. Now I should note, I exaggerate on how ginger I really was, but I was fat, sad and spent a lot of time alone in an empty house. Some day maybe I will further espouse on what it was like growing up in a divorced household with an alcoholic while my grandparents all checked out slowly at the same time. What it was like watching my mother work sixty hours a week just to keep us afloat. But right now, who cares? We've all had it rough and frankly if I hadn't spent hours alone at home I don't think my imagination would be what it is now. By the time I was eighteen I had no idea I wanted to be a writer.
I tried everything. Started in film, moved onto history, then archaeology, a failed attempt at geology, project management and even geographic information systems. You what the common element was? Every notebook I had would start with three pages of barely decipherable notes and then change directly into a fifteen page sci-fi/fantasy story about a lone badass wandering a post apocalyptic wasteland or a mechanic who's the last one left alive on her space station orbiting Titan with eight hours of oxygen left, or a group of misfit fantasy heros from all over the land on their quest to defeat an evil demon lord. For most of my life I figured I was just a bad student, but by the time I was halfway through a master's degree I realized I was just studying the wrong subjects. Now that's not to say none of those subjects interested me, I am a professional archaeologist and it is a wonderful field filled with amazing people, but my brain is truly best suited to making shit up. It's been my own little super power for as long as I have been able to remember, when life has started to get rough? I can just drop out into someone else's shoes.
I once had lunch with my third grade teacher
(who dealt with me at a very difficult time and to this day I consider a friend), she told me that when it was time to share creative writing I would tell the most amazing stories from a blank piece of paper. I am not truly an author in the traditional sense, as you read my work you will find that it is not going to be a work for the ages, filled with deep metaphor and social commentary. If that is the depth of the water you seek, I apologise, Phillip K. Dick and Issac Asimov are some of my favorite reads, but emulation is not greatness. I am a storyteller, that's all.
In the ancient world the best place by the fire was reserved for the storyteller, because they would help people forget the hardships of everyday life. That's what I seek to do in this difficult and imperfect time, I want you to forget your worries and woes, just for a little while. Slip off your shoes, kick on back your feet and let me take you somewhere else, because while it's good to be present, it's good to get lost too.