Here is a bit of candidness and transparency. I have reached the age of 56, after a life full of writing for others that has not gotten me where I wanted to be. If I had the ability now to choose any career going forward, it would to be a novelist. To be able to explore, muse, satirize or imagine realities, lives unlived, histories from other universes: to hold up an often darker mirror to my species and myself.
So this blog is about me attempting to ignite such a career, and present my voice to all of you out there in Internetland, if you are able to find me. This is my rowboat, with a digital sail, slowing heading out onto the vast, roiling wilderness of the Web. Will I succeed? Who knows? Will I be found, or lost in the doldrums of isolation and anonymity? Will this blog of mine, this fragile lily pad that I sit upon, help me find recognition and achieve a new career? That depends on me, upon you dear readers, and upon luck, I suppose. But I wanted to make my motivation and intentions clear, so there was no misconception.
At this writing, I do not as yet know how I will construct this blog, what elements it will contain, or what is primary focus will be. It will be an organic process that is not entirely in my control – as so much we do is not. As with any creative process, I begin with an idea or an intent and then let it emerge, slowly, like a face emerging from dark waters or swirling mist. It must become its own entity in a way, resolve itself in the harmony of my conscious and subconcious minds. So many times when I have worked on a creative writing project, I would get to a point, usually about a third of the way in, when writing almost became something like dictation. The words would appear in my head and I would write them down – quickly. Sometimes at breakneck speed. The characters in the stories would begin to speak as if on their own, and would start to indicate to me where they wanted to go and what they wanted to say. This was not always how I had previously imagined the narrative, but I found, through direct experience, that the story always came out better if I did not try to control it. Often to my own amazement.