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To set the mood, I’m listening to the audiobook of Neil Gaiman’s, THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE, while writing this. He has a wonderful voice, and it relaxes me enough to let my guard down, so I can tell you a little about myself.

Usually, I listen to classical music while I write, preferably Baroque. Vivaldi is my favourite composer. Yet, this time I thought by quietly listening to Neil’s novel, it would be like sitting in a coffee shop hearing the adjoining tables’ conversations while I wrote. It has been a long time since I’ve been in a coffee shop. The thing is, I’m primarily a lone wolf in my physical life, except when involving myself ‘virtually.’

Another one of my attributes is that I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Type 1. During the course of my therapy, all those childhood problems I had while growing up, now makes sense, along with all the current ones I have forty years later. It hurts to think about the important opportunities I squandered, the failed relationships, and all those wasted years. Yet, I credit my therapist with having me look more at my potential future. Knowing my mental illness, and having it treated, gives my future an excellent chance in succeeding. If I can keep focused, work hard, and create publishable writing, then there’s a chance that I have a good thirty years of productive output ahead of me. (I hope I’m not beginning another one of my manic episodes.)

Growing up, I always loved books, whether it was going to the school or city library. I would checkout as many as I could, and lug them all home. Then I would grow through them, page after page, cover to cover. After awhile, I would lose interest (another problem gleaned through my therapy.) My reading skills were very lacklustre. I’ve never been a good reader, even to this day, but I’m more persistent when comes to finishing a story, or a book, after I’ve started it. These problems doomed me during my years in college.

As for writing, that began during my freshman year of college. I had a close friend in another city that was an aspiring science fiction writer. We had long conversations about science fiction, space exploration, and our dreams about writing. Yet, my way of writing wasn’t prose; it was poetry. I would pen poems about astronomy, the first shuttle launches, nature, and of course, girls…lost love. Short stories started a few years later, but they were horrible. I was a ‘C’ student, at best, in English while in school. There was a lot I had to learn about creative writing, hence the ‘typing with callused fingertips.’ I won’t deny it; a writer should never stop learning about their craft, and I’m DEFINITELY still learning.

My primary genres that I write in are science fiction and fantasy, but I also like to explore horror, too. As time goes by, my priorities might change; yet, these are the main three.

Finally, my hope as a writer, and to those of you who visit my blog, is sharing my dream of that day when I become a published author.

Off into another world.

Off into another world.

At least, I didn't break the mirror.

At least, I didn’t break the mirror.

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