blog - writeslave.org / about me
You can view my complete bio by clicking here: MY BIO
My BLOG - Writeslave.Org
My blog is where I write regularly. Please visit it and see what goes on inside this crazy little head of mine. Sometimes it’s thought provoking, sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s pointless, but either way I will work hard to blow. your. mind. (Well, maybe…)
the “why”: the reason I could not live without writing
words no longer seem fit to live in the mind of a writer. they must be strewn out onto the world to see what they are capable of.
Words are basically creative vomit spewed onto a page to release something that is brewing within. The responsibility every artist has is to make that “vomit” incite something of meaning; of quality.
When I think of what it means to write, it is not simply the gesture of putting words to paper. It is the responsibility to put powerful words to paper - to use the eloquence and possibility of words to make a difference in this seemingly upside down world. I realize that while I have the freedom to express myself, so many others do not. Words are the voice of the soul. A reflection of the the beauty, chaos, power, fear … everything within. Words are living, breathing things that float on a page and awaken, enliven, disgust, encourage, teach, offend, unite, divide, embrace, love, hurt, admire, and indulge. We each have a unique voice, one that stirs within us hoping to be heard.
in⋅spire
verb, -spired, -spir⋅ing.
–verb (used with object)
1. to fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence: His courage inspired his followers.
2. to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.): to inspire confidence in others.
3. to fill or affect with a specified feeling, thought, etc.: to inspire a person with distrust.
4. to influence or impel: Competition inspired her to greater efforts.
5. to animate, as an influence, feeling, thought, or the like, does: They were inspired by a belief in a better future.
Words are my passion and my soul. They are powerful - they can make you laugh in a moment when sorrow seems to overtake you. They can breathe life into you when hope seems to have faded away. They can stir your soul and offer passion a place to dwell. They can ignite emotion and give you something to desire. Words inspire. Words heal. Words release and reveal. They offer hope and give your heart a voice. Words can be powerful and violent, honest and relentless, beautiful and dangerous but in the end … it’s what exists behind the words that holds the real truth.
I write because if I do not, my soul seems vacant and lost. I write because I hope to move someone. I write because everyone needs a voice and perhaps you will hear a bit of yours in mine. May you be inspired by what you read …
the “how”: the birth of my career…
enthusiasm can often be mistaken for fanaticism. they key is recognizing the different. - francis ford coppola
meeting francis…
In March of 1998, I had the pleasure of taking a trip to Napa. As it unfolded, I decided to visit Francis Ford Coppola’s winery. Lucky me it was a day he happened to show - but then again, it seems everything in my life comes at the strangest of times. I sat outside drinking wine and eating bread and cheese and watched as every single person that walked by, realizing it was him, stopped to take photographs and get autographs and try their hand at impressing this iconic filmmaker. I just sat and wrote … I observed every behavior, nervousness, the sheer gull of strangers approaching this man who seemingly simply wanted to enjoy his book, cigar, and freshly made espresso. And then - without warning one of the “strangers” came to me asking if they borrow my pen. I was reluctant and kindly demanded they bring it back the minute they received the autograph they wanted from Francis. Yes, Francis. I never liked the formality of the entire name of anyone I admired. Francis. George. Akira. Jane. Anais. It’s just more real to me that way.
And so, this stranger crept off with my instrument and as the crowd thinned, I realized the stranger was long gone - but alas, my pen was nestled on the table of, you guessed it, Francis. I looked at my friend who always seemed surprised at my boldness and I got up, walked over and asked for my pen back. It’s funny the response you get when you’re not actually asking anything of someone but rather getting what you came for and going back to your life. It intrigues them. And I walked (well, ok, strutted) back to my table and continued writing my little piece and then without thinking, just addressed it: To Francis, and at the bottom signed my full name and I walked over and looked at this incredibly brilliant man and said, “I figured you should have this since it’s about the moment you just experienced” and I walked away. He DIDN’T throw it away! In fact he read it and then he folded it and placed it in his Tommy Bahama pocket. A few minutes later a waiter arrived with a periodical: Zoetrope: All-Story. He smiled, flipped it to the back and quietly said, “someone thinks you should enter this contest”. A contest - 15 writers are chosen out of countless submissions to attend a Writer’s Workshop in Belize for Francis and his magazine. I entered. And was accepted. Twice. the stories that were chosen are in the following links.
I was young and they were my first ever short stories so forgive the youthful air - but in the same breath, enjoy it. That excitement and fervor is something we should all strive to maintain.
Here are links to the other artistic outlets of my mind:
