Ah am a writer, said a-this fool.

It has taken me years to come over my problem with this term. I really had to work with that, a mental wall blocking up my ability to define what I was when it came to writing. When people asked me if I was a writer I just said –No, I am just a guy who likes to write-. In fact, when I write it is the only time I let myself go completely, when I just let everything flow and follow the stream of my imagination, let characters grow, let scenarios unfold and create fictional landscapes. It has not been easy for me to accept myself as a writer. I had to climb that huge wall in my mind and come to terms with what I am.

What I enjoy the most about writing is the freedom it provides, freedom to harvest whatever my mind dreams up, the freedom to follow weird paths and strange highways. I peek through narrow chinks and grand canyons, I walk through wild forests and long forgotten deserts, I paddle down rivers and cut my way through wilderness. The journey is always about the story, to tell a tale, to entertain myself with the hope of someone else also enjoying what I do.

It doesn’t mean that writing is always easy. Some days it’s like fishing for words in a well, if you’ve tried it you know nothing will bit down in that dark hole. Every effort to find the right words bounce around in your mind like something uncatchable, something slippery or thin as air. But some days it’s pouring out of your head like a flooded dam. Those days are like euphoria, an ecstatic sensation flows through my mind and everything feels magic. Everything feels right and every word fits like a perfect piece in a puzzle.

I know I am a writer. I have been for a long time, it just that it took me a long time to accept the term. Hopefully you will enjoy some of the things I write, not the stuff in this awful bucket, but the published stories or what you can google up when you enter my name. Have a great day and read a lot, read a lot.