From the moment I learned to scrawl symbols on a piece of paper to represent the sounds of words, I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Storytelling is my everything, my reason for living. As such, the open notebooks and empty pens littering my public school desks over the years generate comments of both admiration and concern.
"Writing is hard."
"I don't know how you can sit there and just write all the time. I wouldn't have the patience."
"You mean that's not for a class? You're writing that for fun?"
It can be one of the most difficult things to hold on to your words when it feels like no one around you truly understands the point of what you're doing. A lot of people lose heart. Others decide they have no talent and never pick up a pen again. This is one of the most tragic things I have discovered about the world we live in.
That's why I'm here. Someone needs to put a stop to this, and I guess that someone is me. That's alright. I've got quite a bit of free time on my hands. This is all for you: that undiscovered writer with the inferiority complex, always told to get your head out of the clouds. Put it back in.
Let the words flow.
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