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Sitting here at an ungodly hour of night/morning I haven’t seen in awhile, thinking about all of the things on my to-do list for the day. A big one is write, in an attempt to finish a few things and start on some others. I’ve been writing a lot lately, in a steady and solid groove, but my attention is primarily turned (for now) to my upcoming book release this September.
Transmission will be the third book I will have released into the world this year.

Three books in a year, at one time or another in my life, seemed like a silly dream. I didn’t think that I would ever do it, that I would ever push myself enough to just go for it.

Then…one day I did. I wrote one story, and stopped. Then, a few years later, I wrote another…then another…and then another…

Once I started listening to myself, listening to my own thoughts, the ideas began to come. They’re fleeting things, ideas and glimmers of plots or characters that come and go. Sometimes it’s just a line of text that I can see in my mind, and that leads into something bigger.
I started listening, and then I started writing. It turned out that, all those years, that was really all that I had to do.

I feel indescribably lucky. I am lucky that I can afford at this time in my life to start pursuing my childhood dreamer harder and more consistently than I thought possible. I could not do this without a support system, and I have an immense and wonderful one. It’s not just my family and friends that make me feel like this could all be worth it, but the community of wonderful people in which I live. Neighbors and colleagues and other fantastic folks that give me the validation I often need to keep going.

I dream of the possibility that someday I could make this my life. It doesn’t have to make me rich, and I never expect it too, but merely give me enough so that I can continue to write more. I want to be able to let free the limitless boundaries of my imagination, because I am now starting to realize that there are so many things rattling around in my brain, and I’m tired of trying to contain them.

Maybe the things I write won’t always be for everyone. Maybe sometimes I will disappoint the people who I want so badly to keep entertaining and keep making proud of me. That’s possible, and I am coming to accept that.

I have written more content in the past couple of weeks than I had in most of 2020 (thanks, COVID). Short stories, flash fiction pieces, the remaining chapters of Ashes so that I can start preparing book number two in the new series. My brain is churning out ideas faster than I can write them, but it’s so good. Better than anything I’ve maybe ever felt before.

Don’t be afraid to let your creativity free. Don’t be afraid to strive for those things you once considered to be childhood pipe dreams. It doesn’t matter how old we are. It doesn’t matter what else is going on in our lives. We have to do the things that make our wild, weird hearts happy. I’m finally doing that, and it feels SO good.

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