On Authors…

Today, I thought I would take this time to write about why I want to be an author.  It’s not a dream everyone has, and it certainly is an extraordinary amount of added pain and work.  So many who walk down this path will quit before journey’s end, and even if I do reach the goal of having my name in print, there is no guarantee that I will make a significant amount of money more than I do now.  Suffice to say, on paper it looks like a bad deal.

I’d like to take this time to explain the why behind my motivation.  Maybe exorcise a demon or two, and give everyone a chance to see what drives me so hard to become an author.  Authors are quite literally my idols, the rock-stars of my life.  You see, for a lot of my years as a child, reading was how I coped with life.  Granted, it’s not the best coping mechanism, and it certainly lead to it’s share of pitfalls, but I think it was definitely better than other coping mechanisms I could’ve turned to.

When I was a young child, I had very severe asthma.  At the time, there were not a whole lot of available treatments for my condition, and it limited what I could do to a great degree.  I had to spend upwards of two hours a day strapped to a breathing machine to make sure I wouldn’t have a severe asthma attack.  Despite that, there were still several close calls which lead me to the hospital.  The type of medicine they had to treat me with also lead to a lot of weight gain, and combined with the sedentary style of delivery, I put on weight very fast as a small boy.  During the times each day when I required treatment, I would read.  Due to my weight, I started spending more and more time reading and playing video games instead of doing any form of physical activity. 

Then, I started school.  Very early on, I was teased because of my frequent trips to the nurses office for medication, and for my slowly increasing girth.  Kids can be a little merciless to each other, and they have a knack for knowing just what will wound most.  So I found myself again in a situation where reading was my salvation.  To make matters worse, twice over the course of my childhood I broke my right wrist very badly.  This has not helped matters as far as my physical well being is concerned, and it’s been a constant thorn in my side whenever I’ve wanted to become more active. 

Over the years, I’ve forgiven those who have tormented me.  It’s easy to look back and see now that those children who are being nasty to other children are on the whole suffering themselves.  They have a hidden pain, or a secret trouble, and the only way they can cope themselves is to wear down another.  Again, not the best coping mechanism, but I was lucky enough to navigate my rough childhood and hindsight has given me that understanding.

At the time, all I could see was my pain, my weight, my sore wrist, and all the things I didn’t get to do or experience.  I had trouble relating to others, I would easily shut down in conversations that I didn’t enjoy, it was a mess.  And through it all, I would escape into the worlds created by books.  I’ve lived hundreds of different lives, gone on countless adventures, rescued a dozen princesses, been rescued by a dozen more.  Books offered me a safe harbor at a time when the storms seemed like they would destroy me.  They were friends during times I had none, a companion who never judged or laughed, but was always ready when I wanted to play.

Part of me simply wants to give back to those who have given me so much.  At times, I feel like a mouse trying to walk in the land of giants, and that I can never do the same things that they have done.   Yet what I want more than my pain, or my fears, or my insecurities, is to reach another child who is in the same spot that I am.  I want to be their safe harbor, the port they can turn to when life is stormy.  I want to reach out to them, and let them know that there is hope, wonder, magic, and adventure to be had if you are willing to seek it.  All I want is to be the lighthouse on the shore for their troubled souls, in the hopes that they can make it safely home 

Humbly,
Justin