It’s no secret to anyone that knows me that I am olympic-level clumsy. If someone handed out medals for clumsiness, my walls would be covered with more gold than an Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. But stumbling into the world of novel-writing was the biggest ‘trip and fall’ of my life.
And also the BEST!
I never finished college (life decided to take me in a different direction), but throughout all of my classes, every one of my professors (seriously, all of them) encouraged me to consider switching my then world history major to that of creative writing. And each time I received this advice, I’m certain I gave an epic head-tilt of confusion.
“Me? A writer?”
I hated all of my writing assignments, not because they were hard, but because it was too easy and boring. Not to toot my own horn here (toot toot) but essay assignments which took most other students hours upon hours to finish really only took me about twenty minutes. And I got an ‘A’ every time. I simply didn’t notice my ability to write, and viewed it at boring.
So, anyway. Writing wasn’t even on my career radar. Because something else took up all of my attention.
For about three years, I was haunted by an image of a man in a snowy forest (I use the word ‘haunted’ because it honestly felt like that. I could not escape it). Over that time, my imagination spun that blue-eyed man and that snowy land into a tale of magic!
One early December morning, around 2:30am, something woke me up (in more ways than one) and guided me to my massive Dell computer (remember those days, when your hard drive was a fifty pound ‘tower’ only to be outweighed by the eighty pound monitor the size of a Buick? The struggle…). There I sat for six hours, my fingers vomiting out words all over my keyboard.
And Ethereal was born.
I had no idea that this story would consume my thoughts and basically take over my life.
To be continued…