My Creative Life.

I have rarely felt this alive. Writing this thriller, this story pulled from what I wish to read, is having an effect I had not imagined, it’s deepening my understanding of people, of how we act and react to trauma. In my process of creating this fictitious world, I have had to do plenty of research, on a variety of topics, from things like car models to pine tree air fresheners and speaking at a University, or the trauma of this event, that situation, so on and so forth.

I have rarely felt this alive. Writing this thriller, this story pulled from what I wish to read, is having an effect I had not imagined; it’s deepening my understanding of people, of how we act and react to trauma. In my process of creating this fictitious world, I have had to do plenty of research, on a variety of topics, from things like car models to pine tree air fresheners and speaking at a University, or the trauma of this event, that situation, so on and so forth.

As a novelist, an artist, I am discovering that my mind is far from limited, in fact, it’s a treasure trove of information, of the imaginary and the real, views points versus science, loving moments and pure terror in the face of impending doom. When I was still a child, and through my formative years, I often dreamed of running away, not because I was mistreated or abused, no, I just had this strong desire to live a life of my own. I remember how I would imagine this private world that was populated by diaphanous people ( nearly transparent ), they would smile at me, sometimes wink and if I concentrated enough, I could make them climb up walls, walk across the cables from pole to pole, down a street. One time, I must have been six years old, it was early Fall I think and I was standing on the front balcony which was no more than an assemblage of creaky wooden planks nailed together. I was standing there, looking at this ditch that a city crew had dug in the road just off the sidewalk. I could see a yellow and white barrier to prevent anyone from falling into it I suppose, and I got caught up in how dark it was. I began imagining my translucent friends running in it, going straight through one dirt wall and moments later reappearing coming out from the other end still running. To be clear, I was fully aware that I was imagining all this. For me, using my creativity came easily, not sure how or why, it was simply always available and, more importantly, desired by me.

I have made some attempts at being someone who fits in more seamlessly with society, but I rapidly come back to what feels right for me, and that is living a creative life. Being creative is everything to me, I have little need for accolades, or fame, though it is always wonderful to know that I made someone feel good, or opened up new questions for them, or for myself. So, I am very much hoping that if you’ve read my memoirs published by Brainspired Publishing and found it to your liking, you will also want to eventually read my upcoming novel ( it could be months away ). I promise you that it will be a nail biter.

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