I Write

I don’t write to be worshiped. I don’t write for any other purpose other than a little bit of money and to spread information. I write to make a spark in anyone’s brain that could, hopefully, trigger a series of mental events that will, hopefully, become physical events and transform their life. And when I said “a little bit of money”? That is not the driving purpose of why I write. At best, it is just another good reason as to why I should continue in my hope of changing minds and lives.

My history of writing in my own life goes back to middle school. I never enjoyed school. I have always hated it. I’ve always been lazy about it. I’m sure you know how you have to meet a page or word requirement when writing a paper for school. To make my papers longer back in middle school, I would use a variety of long adjectives. Little did I know how far that would take me. It became a habit. Before I knew it, I could write my literal ass off, I was that good. I ended up joining the journalism class in high school (freshman year) only to be asked by my teacher to join the newspaper as soon as possible because she believed I was a brilliant writer. Sophomore year, I wrote not one, but two papers that were so damn good, my teachers believed I plagarized them. They must have believed I was plagarizing because I was a half-ass student in those classes, but I was a god when it came to writing.

They say I have a gift. Some say it is a gift from God, others believe it is pure talent. For me, I believe it is just what I am good at. No more, no less.