Why I Have Written

It may have started in 1984, at the age of 11. It probably started a few years later, fall of 1986. I was 14. I had written a short story. I was growing up and I was more and more withdrawn everyday. It may have been during that Thanksgiving break when I met Freesia. We talked about all the fantastic things we were going to do with life. Being a writer was her goal, and perhaps to impress her or because I was still riding a high with the first and only story I had ever written, I too said I wanted to be a writer. As far as Freesia goes, we're still writing letters, like we've been doing since 1986. We're both still claiming to be writers, or proposing to be writers or perhaps we're throwing towels because we were writers.

It may have started at any point on my timeline from the onset of my war in the Middle East in 1990 or the time I later started college in 1993. It may have started in March of 1995, after the house fire left me homeless and Bleeding Sheep published my first short story “Fish of a Nazi Haven.” Then again, it may have started a year later when I decided to leave Botany behind me and become a writer. Yes, it was January 1996, ten years after I first made the statement that I wanted to be a writer, when I decided to go out and do it.

1996 was a very long time ago. Or was it?

No, it didn't start in 1996. No, it started much later. January 2007 when my feet hit the ground in Vermont and I got off to Goddard College to pursue my MFA in creative writing. January 2007? No, that wasn't it either. I think it was January 2009 when I graduated. In January 2009, life and education under my belt, I went out into the world and began my life as a writer.

Yes, it began then. January 2009. That was only eleven years ago. But it was 36 years ago when I first set words to paper. It was 34 years ago when I first started saying I wanted to be a writer. It was 25 years ago when I got my first publication. It was 24 years ago when I decided to study writing. Man, how fast the time goes.

And now, I can say with the upmost certainty that my life as a writer really began right after leaving graduate school in January 2009. In the 11 interceding years I can account for every last moment, every last word, every last accomplishment.

I did not really begin my life as a writer until I was 36 years old. I'm 47 now, soon to be 48. The years just keep coming on. The truth is, I went out into the world to see things, do things, experiment with things. I went out into the world looking for flavor. I wanted to see as many places as I could, drink as much booze as anyone should. I wanted to stay up all night with beautiful women in dark and smoky coffeehouses. I wanted to hear more music, take as many photos as possible.

Sure, I wanted to be a writer, but that wasn't the focus of life. My focus of life was to go out and do things, all sorts of things. From a very young age on, I wanted to experience life and be an interesting person. I wanted to be smart. I wanted to be the guy people wanted to talk to because they had never met anyone remotely like me before. This was how I lived my life until the time I got to Goddard College at the beginning of my graduate program.

When I began my writer's life in January of 2009, I had plenty going. I wanted to write. I had more characters running around in my head than I knew what to do with. I had more imaginary friends than anyone is entitled to have. I had to start telling stories. I had to start writing if nothing more than to exorcise my imaginary friends.

Somewhere along the path I got involved with others. I became a founder of Umbrella Factory Magazine. I was on the ground floor of Rocket House. I was part of a couple of writer's groups that ultimately did great things. I have loved, loathed, been loved and loathed. It's been a tremendous time.

More than all of that, however, is the fact that I have written.

First, as of this moment, today, I have now written 520 blog posts. That's ten years. Weekly, ten years.

Second, I curated 40 issues of Umbrella Factory Magazine. That's also ten years.

Third, I wrote 19 novels. 190 short stories. Countless poems which resulted in 23 chapbooks. I wrote at least a dozen screenplays. My publications are numerous. I have outlived many of the magazines who published my short fiction. I have outlived the publisher Ring of Fire Books, that published two of my novels and promised, unsuccessfully, a third book.

But this is not why I have written. I have written because there was something not particularly deep under the surface that needed to go. It may have been easier for me to be a destroyer. This is not my personality. Rather, I am a creator. I can say, with the utmost certainty that everything I ever wrote was a way for me to deal with something I had seen, done, feared or loved. When I say this I mean, I was 36 years old when I decided to write.

Is everything I wrote autobiographic? No. But, I know where the connection is. I know how any given character in any given novel is a part of me needing resolution. This is why I have written.

Now, here I am.

It's quiet. I feel peace. I feel complete. I am grateful to have written.