Confessions of an up and coming literary stylist of astronomical proportions...I hope. Why I write.

A brief treatise concerning what motivates my mojo...

   I write to exist-to survive and to create something outside the heckler in the void telling me to be quiet and to survive by not being curious enough.

  I write because the words burn in me a calling to serve the message with all the love, enthusiasm and courage I can possibly muster in this trying world.

  I write to create stories that my cat will dig; by her wanting to stick around whenever I dare play artist and turn my office into a workshop of some serious blood, sweat and tears.

  I write because it is my way of thanking my ma and pa for all of the awesome sacrifices they continue to make in the name of family and honor.

  I write to become part of the pantheon of mythology that human beings have been laying down for over two thousand years.

  I write because I dig being alive and contributing to the betterment of the human condition. While there is much done in the name of man that breaks my heart, I continue to plod on creating magic in the hope that faith in imagination will fire-up little kids something fierce and bestow with all the possible enthusiasm love for the written word, and what a good story can do in the assisting of the illumination of what it means to be alive.

  Shell Silversein and Johnny Cash; Roald Dahl and John Coltrane; and Jerry Garcia and J.R.R. Tolkien. These have been my friends pointing the way for as long as I can remember. 

  My earliest memories of writing include the first story I recall writing in first grade about a boy and his magic carpet,  on which he had accidentally spilled a potion from his dad's work on that gave it a soul. I Remember the rush of something sacred; the feeling of creation, of having contributed to the birth of something timeless, ancient and welcome.

  I remember writing the first fifty pages of a fantasy epic at fourteen called 'Medallions of Balance'. I remember being fascinated by the feeling of spontaneity at switching points of view between characters; coloring these personalities of seemingly 'flesh-and-blood' that would appear to be ready to leap off the page when given blood through the ink in my pen.

  My memories includes the feeling of seeing a poem in the school newspaper, and although they butchered the line breaks, I was hooked at seeing my ideas and images in print.

  A calling and someone to love, that is what my mentor told us he wished for us one day in class. Cheers.

Reviews

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Nice.. Keep it up.. Do u read mine 2 "ANGUISH" If possible then gives ur review..tc