It's been two and a half years since I've written anything - certainly an odd fact considering I am a professional writer for 8 years. Despite my being an advertising copywriter and sports journalist, my true passion was (imagine this) to write the great American novel. The total loss of literary ambition comes on the heals of two tumultuous years of upheaval and self-inflicted personal chaos. The roller coaster ride my life has been on shows no signs of ending.
Thus far, I have endured - with a little more gray in my hair and weary bags under my eyes. Slowly, I'm realizing I might be a little more invigorated about life and love if I returned to my writing roots.
Random background blurb: I earned my bachelor's degree in English from Kent State University in the alive and thriving nineties. I dabbled loosely in the artistic hopefulness that comes from taking creative writing classes and reading piles and piles of "great books." But, besides a few juvenile attempts to shock teachers with my detailed prose, my writing failed to grab the attention of anyone other than me. Of course, when I re-read my work from that time, I am mildly embarrassed by the writings' self-conscious, calculated, and derivative prose.
In writing, voice is the key, and I had little of it because I had no me. I had no beliefs or experiences or guts to put it right there on the page for all to criticize or ridicule. I didn't understand that what the world needs is not another Jack Kerouac or James Joyce or Chuck Pahlaniuk, what the world needed was me - the honest, untethered truth of me, and you and any other writer who just wants to give themselves to their readers.
In short, my starting this blog is an attempt to finally get it right: to write precisely and honestly about my life, my loves and my view on this crazy, insane world we live in. Any other goal is trivial.
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