I didn’t start writing novels until about six years ago. And, I didn’t consider myself to be a “writer” until about one year ago when I published Aggravated Momentum. I was never much one for school. In fact I hardly ever even showed up in class as a kid (I was too busy with funner adventures) I cheated my way to awesome grades. To make things even worse, I’ve never stepped foot in a classroom beyond high school. I know, *gasp* right?!?! The only time I did actually apply myself in HS Lit class was with poetry, I loved to write poems even before I knew I had talent. Other than that, I didn’t care much as a kid about learning.
Don’t start shooting me with your judge rays just yet though, because in all fairness I’ve accomplished more than lots of degree holders could ever have the confidence and ability to acquire.
But how is that so? One might ask. How is it that you’ve published seven books, all with professional creativity and excellent reviews, without a proper education?
Let me break it down for you… Being creative is not in a degree! Anyone with passion, fire and dedication can self-educate at any age if they want to. We don’t live in a world with the technology to acquire any knowledge we’d like to explore at the tip of our fingers for nothing. If you want something, go out and get it whether your past disagrees or not!
Now, with that little pep talk out of the way, lets get to the real point I’m working toward. A way with words!!
I started writing novels as an outlet. A distraction from life when I was struggling to have babies. I needed to clear my head, and I needed a goal. I needed something to focus on that I enjoyed and that allowed me to distance myself from my self-doubt and grief. It worked, and my writing transformed into something much much bigger. An unmistakable passion developed, and my goals grew into something worth fighting for. Every time I’m asked about when and why I began to write, that’s always been my go-to, my story. Rightfully so, as that’s when the switch was flipped. The pivotal point that changed my entire life.
I was thinking about it this morning, and realized my love of writing actually rooted from elsewhere. Yes, my first novel at a time of personal hardships was the beginning of growth, but what I’m talking about is the roots, or the seed so to speak. Why writing? Of all the things I could have done as an outlet, why books?
Again, the answer is simple. I’ve always had a way with words. As a kid, I was a clever little turkey and had a way of talking people into things. I was the peacemaker between friends, and the plotter behind adventure. No one told me no, and it’s because if they tried I’d find a way of circling around their arguments and talking them into whatever I wanted.
I remember one day I was caught on camera, busted for smoking cigarettes in the parking lot of my school. A police officer showed up to to slap me with ticket, along with I think five other students (its hard to recall exactly how many of us). Of course I wasn’t there. I was skipping class that day lol. I had a friend hear my name over the inter-calm in the hallway. Being the loyal buddy that he was, he too skipped class. He defeated all odds and found me, stoned and lighting fires in the hills outside of town. He delivered the news.
I remember that sick feeling at the pit of my stomach. I hated getting caught. But what’s funny about this particular memory, is that I didn’t rush to the school to defend myself. I didn’t run away from the problem either. I was much more afraid of the trouble I’d get into at home than I was the law. I could manage paying a fine and working community service hours no problem, but I couldn’t handle being grounded!! That was big deal. I assumed that because I wasn’t at school, they’d be calling home to find me.
I put out the little mini-daytime campfire and my joint, and had my friends take me straight home. I had to be the one to break the news to my mom before the cops or principle did. If I told her my story(excuse) first then I could word it in such a way that would land me a week of bedroom solitude rather than a month. That was my tactic… A Way With Words.
So as I sit at my computer this morning contemplating about when my love of writing began, I had to scratch the writing part.. I decided that I was destined to be an author far before I ever sat at a keyboard. Before I started writing, I was a talker. As long as I was the first story heard, I could get around anything. Not in lies either, but in wording. In reason. You tell something the right way and you can accomplish anything. Think about it. Politicians, salesman, preachers, and even teachers. They’re remembered because of their words. Their explanations and speeches stick. Not so much objective, but the way they deliver that objective.
The point of this post, is to learn. Improve your vocabulary, because words are power!! Master your way with words and you can master your profession.