Posted: November 18, 2012 in Uncategorized

Why Do I write?

I’ve asked myself that question many times. TO be honest I don’t know why I write. I enjoy it, most of the times. Sometimes I hate it. It is a feeling stronger than myself. I can’t help it. My brain always races 100 miles an hour, it never stops, even when I sleep.

I have a good non-writing career, so I don’t need to make a penny writing, however I do wish that I could make a living writing. Sit here in my cave, writing down the demons conversations in side of my head. I am a new author, and so far I only published a novella, not even a full blown novel (Diablo Canyon coming soon). The books has had 500 downloads in the last 5 weeks. To some that might seem nothing and I’m sure on the big scale it doesn’t but it does to me. 500 people took the time to read my story. I was able to help them relax or escape for just a brief moment and that is all that matters to me. When I receive an email or tweet or review from someone that really enjoyed the story I feel flattered and great. It makes me happy knowing that someone else enjoyed it.

My intentions are not to write the next Harry Potter, or have my book turned into a movie or even receive an award. None of that matters. Would it be nice, of course but that is not what is important to me. I hope that with my writing I one day will be able to get enough money to start a few charities. Help others, leave something of significance behind. Because in the end when we pass on, what really matters. How many of us know the leading actor from the 1920′ or the best selling Musician from 1910?

However we remember those who made great contributions to our society.

Even that kind of fame doesn’t really matter to me. What does matter is that I spend my time on earth wisely, be kind (to most ), help those that I can help and try to make a difference every day.

Several years ago I worked in Orange County. I had a staff of 26. Every day I was there for them, I held people accountable and made sure it was a good environment to work without micromanaging. (Micro managing is a sign you don’t know what you are doing.)

I still think highly of all the employees I had in those days. They didn’t make much money, and on the day I left, they had pitched in and gave me a plaque. On it, From all of us “Every day you made a difference.”

That Plaque means more to me than any other award I ever received. And whenever I move to a new job it is the first thing that goes up on the wall.

Don’t always think about yourself and make the world a better place on day at a time.

It pays itself back in so many other ways. I call it the Karma bank.

SO let me tell you this,

Due to my military experiences it has been extremely hard for me to sleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night and for a few years I didn’t like anyone near me. I can’t recall ever dreaming before 2006. I just don’t think I ever did. (Sure some doctor out there disagrees.) Anyway we moved to a more rural area and for whatever reason all of a sudden I started dreaming the same dream over and over again. Every night a little boy (6 or 7) came to me and told me I had to write a book. At first I thought this was complete nonsense. I was amazed that I even recalled the dreams. The dreams had to do with the location where I currently life and a tree. A bizarre tree, it was burned by one of the many wildfires we have had and it resembled two claws clenching together.

I would often go to see this tree. The dreams never stopped. In December 2006 I sat down and wrote the first sentences of “Diablo Canyon”:

Apple Valley, California 1782

A meteorite from a foreign solar system shoots over the valley. Leaving behind a trace of minute particles as it slowly burns up in the atmosphere.

The wind blows relentlessly from the south as always.

The everlasting battle between frogs and crickets for vocal supremacy is the only thing to be heard.

A barn owl voices his protest in an attempt to interrupt the contest.

It is not much but those were the first sentences I ever wrote. As I wrote more and more of the story, the dreams became less frequent, Now I dream about all sorts of things, great, fun, crazy things. The boy never returned and the boy does not appear in Diablo Canyon. I have no official schooling in writing and before I was 20 I picked up maybe 3 books and that was only because I was forced to. (That is a different story for another time.)

So why write? I can tell you that writing intimidates me, and very few things in life do. I feel naked and exposed, but damn do I like it.

So this is my post for Sunday: I write because I have to. Because my mind hurts if I don’t release these stories. I sometimes see an object and in a split second a story plays before my eyes. I record it or quickly write the key elements down.

My main hurdle is the PAIS (Put Ass In Seat). The actual time between my daily life, my professional life and now also the promoting of myself and my work.

Know that those of you that return here, tweet with me and those that read my books make it worth  every day and that is the fuel that keeps my engine running.

Thank you so much and I hope to keep you entertained.

Attached is the song I was listening to when I was writing this post.

I hope you will enjoy it.

Cheers and all the best.


  1. […] ← Previous Post Nov 18 2012 […]

  2. The Scarecrow says:

    Feel the same way.

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