At last.
Many many moons ago. I received some homework to pen a story. I wrote something and forgot about. A day or two later we was all in class. To my horror, my teacher read out my tale. I got rather good marks. It made me think, oh, there’s something I might be good at.
I went to college later. Business writing. It killed creative writing for me. Then everything faded. More years passed. The age of the internet. I discovered AOL. I wrote once more. Alas, the moderator didn’t like a few choice words I used in my piece. I told them it related to real life. Not acceptable though.
I found an online writing course through the OU. I soon discovered I had heaps to learn. I was prone to errors. I still am. And yet, the imagination within demands to be told. So I crafted stories, poems to many realms. A few were accepted. Many were not. I adapted my style. Not quite so much of the gory horror but more the subtlety of the unusual.
I always dreamt of writing a book. I’ve actually about three now that have a good amount of wordage. I finally got one published. I think it’s a rather good tale. It relays much of the stories I’ve heard. It’s scary for some. Not for others. A tale of London. A tale of horror. A tale of excess. A tale of trials and redemption. The ending is bitter sweet.
So for all reading this. Do you dream? I’m sure you do. If you do, then why not write? It’s a beautiful expression of energy. Craft new worlds. Make experiences. Enjoy it. Maybe, too, you can have your book out there.
Adieu.
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