Once upon a time (so many a writer has begun) I was a film major. The dream was that I might dictate worlds. I wanted to make others see my vision, experience the story I had in my head. I wanted to be a film director.
Film school was a rude awakening, at least for me. I was surrounded by some enormous talent, and my simpering ego couldn’t deal with it. I went from being a whale in a pond (among the most creative in my community) to being a minnow in a vast ocean of creativity. My dream and ego both shattered, I pretty much dropped out of school and took up drinking, drugs, and sampling every after-hours club in lower Manhattan. To quote a giant, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Fast-forward some years. I have tried my hand at many, many creative pursuits. But the desire to dictate worlds has never left me. My greatest inspiration is people. It is the tension of a love/hate relationship with humanity that keeps my mind constantly moving, populated by people I read about or see. I have a particular fondness for people who are scarred; broken people whose personalities still show the break lines.
I love reading, and I think just about every reader dreams of writing a book, populating it with the people who reside beneath one’s skull-dome. So I’m writing, learning to write (for writing is an ongoing conversion of sorts, never fully “done”), hoping that I can form words into three-dimensional characters as flawed and hapless as I myself am, and make those characters as real to readers as they are to me.