I wrote my first story when I was seven or eight. It wasn't much of a story, of course. Hardly more than a paragraph. It featured a drawing of a giant frog monster attacking a city, no doubt inspired by my love of Godzilla. I remember being extremely proud of it and gave it to my father who was neither a lover of giant monster movies nor a fiction reader. He was a thinker, interested in ideas and politics, writing about both for the local newspaper. Even so, he kept my scribblings. I found it years later. A window into a much younger me.
I mention this because I've been thinking a lot about where we come from. The road traveled to get here. I'm not that little boy anymore, but that little boy still lives in me. I still dream. I still try and see the world with a sense of wonder. I want to protect him. Shield him. He is like a little candle flickering inside as the winds of experience buffet the flame. As we get older that light can grow dimmer and dimmer. We grow up and seek new sources of illumination. Most of the stories in my new collection The Forever Stone & Other Tales are, in one way or another, all about leaving. Setting out down the path and through the gate into the unknown. Turning your back on the familiar. This is an incredibly brave thing to do. Not everyone can do it. Don't worry. I won't judge. For there are monsters and disappointment and nights without stars. But there are also adventures and new homes to find. Unexpected boons waiting around the next bend. The characters in my tales find both kinds. A few get stuck in the amber of their own obsessions or regrets. When I was very young I decided one day that I was leaving home. So upset was I that I gathered all of my little treasures, wrapped them in a bandana and tied it around a stick, and then headed down the hill. I got as far as the neighbor's house before I stopped and turned around. Maybe home wasn't so bad, after all. Going is a big deal. It's important that you're ready or ready enough. That you're leaving for the right reasons. Wherever you are, I wish you safe travels and happy homecomings. If a storm finds you out at sea may you ride out the waves with someone who is not afraid of salty tears. Most of all I hope you never grow beyond your joy. Oh, and one more thing. If where you end up is where you started from that's okay too. Sometimes we just to be reminded.
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AuthorI write novels, novellas and short stories. When the muse strikes I blog. ArchivesCategories |