I spent years angry with the universe, wondering why I didn’t get the creative gene like so many people in my bloodline. I compared myself to family members who figured out their medium early on. The breath of their soul. It felt like the universe had a beef with me.
And then—
I realized that the universe didn’t have a beef with me. I had beef with it. I also learned that it was never about being too chickenshit to put myself out there. I just wasn’t ready to be seen yet.
Well, not anymore. I am not only ready I am now moved by compulsion. I live and breathe writing as if it depended on the breath I need to stay alive. I didn’t choose this. It chose me and I fought it as hard as I have fought anything before. I resisted the calling so much that it came at a grave price.
A fork in the road. With three different options.
I could:
Abandon my family to become an addict on the streets.
Or…
Take my life and end the internal suffering
Or…
Write the damn book.
So, I wrote the book. Stay tuned to updates and insights as I share the long and gruelling journey to publishing. Fingers and toes crossed…and maybe a candle lit too. .
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