I am preparing to sign and ship a copy of my first published work.
For the past week I have been sporadically trying to write a blog about my journey to become a writer. Sporadically mainly because I wasn’t sure how to approach it. After reading my co-author’s recent blog, I was inspired to write something similar, which wouldn’t have been hard since our introductions to fantasy are eerily similar. We were both bullied extensively (though I was lucky to be half the size of the bullies, so what I gave back was the equivalent of a child hitting a full grown man), and lured into the realm of high fantasy by the Dragonlance novels. My first attempt at a novel made great kindling for a campfire… But there is one memory that stands out in my mind that I would like to share.
The first book I clearly remember reading was Where the Red Fern Grows. I think I was about 8 years old and other than my brief but rapid consumption of choose your own adventure books, I hadn’t read much else. Red Fern contributed greatly to my love for animals, especially dogs. My aunt Cindy (who also happened to be my teacher) with the help of my mother, steered me toward more classics like Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, To Kill A Mockingbird, and many more until I worked my way to Les Misérables.
I fondly remember my English teacher sauntering up to my desk with a smile. She stood before me, almost sneering down, until I was pulled from the pages by her proximity. I raised my eyebrow to insinuate the unvoiced question and the words, Don’t you think that is a little over your head? came out of her mouth. I was too young to feel shocked at the insult, and even though she may not have been the most tactful person, she did know her literature. I replied with, No… why? She chuckled and added, It is a difficult work to understand. To which I said, Do you need me to explain it to you?
Needless to say, she and I didn’t get along very well. That same teacher would later go on to call me lazy and unremarkable, specifically laughing when I expressed my desire to be a writer when I grew up. But even as self-assured as I may have seemed, her disdain cut deep. I stopped writing for years and focused on music instead, though my stories still found their way into my lyrics.
It wasn’t until 2002 that I decided to pick up the pen again, so to speak. Six years later I met Peter at the Genghiscon convention in Denver. I don’t know what it was that drew me to his section of the table. It could have been him calling out loudly, “Hey, how’s it going?” as I walked by. We started talking and made a strong connection in minutes, solidified by my purchasing all the books he had to offer, much to my reading pleasure. Within a month, Peter was teaching me—unbeknownst to me—how to improve my craft and about the industry.
Fast forward another four years and through lots of friendship-enhancing trials and tribulations, and we started working on our Affinities Cycle concept. Peter wanted to create an epic fantasy with a dynamic magic system so we took his foundation and built the world of Esteon atop it. A month later he called to tell me the news that part one of our book would be in an epic fantasy bundle with a troupe of amazing authors, some whose work had helped me to escape the darkest times of my life, literally saving me from myself. Three months after that, the bundle went live and I saw my name on the cover of a published novel.
Twenty-two years later I am addressing a shipping label to an old teacher of mine, with a thank you inside.