Why I write – The Charley Red Page

It seemed appropriate to make my first blog entry for this page be about the reason this page exists; my writing. After all, if I didn’t write the books I have written, I wouldn’t need the website and all. But now ‘Littoz’ as it’s been affectionately called, is complete and ready to try and publish. I’m starting now on the second book, To Love a Zombie. That is just on it’s barest of bones right now.

So why do I write? More history on what I’ve written first. Looking back on high school and college years, I wasn’t a bad writer then. But I stopped. The need to get by drove me in other directions (computers) and that’s been my career ever since. But the muse was still there.

In the subsequent decades I’ve gathered a lot of experience, met a lot of people, seen a lot of things, done a lot of things, and lived life. A few years ago something inside me sparked and I asked myself, “Can I really write a book?” And I started to write once again; just to see if I could. And I did.

So I thought: “What would be ‘the book’ you would write based on all the books you grew up reading?” And I wrote that book (Lathé over 100,000 words, two dozen major character sci-fi dystopian messianic epic set on mankind’s first home in outer space).

While I absolutely adore Lathé, it’s not exactly an easy book to market and sell. So then I thought, “What sort of book would you write to sell?” And I laid out a wonderful series that I promise I will finish one day based on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. The series follows the arc of Le Mort d’Arthur by Mallory, 1485 (books 4-8 from the Tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney through to The Death of Arthur). I’ve got book one (Sir Frog) finished, and I was halfway through book two but wasn’t as motivated as I wanted to be and, well, stopped for a while.

And this is where we get to the ‘why’ part.

During that time I realized there was a whole bunch of things that writing gave me:

A break from my depression. Yes, I get depressed; seasonally, sometimes chemically at random times, and sometimes from just the bad stuff of life. I noticed that when I’m writing, I’m not thinking about, or being, depressed; I’m just there.

The chance to create! Anybody with any artistic urge or understanding knows how good it feels to be able to use that creative, open, and freer part of the brain.

Emotional connection with characters that I can identify with. And of course I identify with them, since each of them is a part of me. So there is a doubled connection there, as the writer, and as the reader.

Now, each of those things has been wonderful, but I had other things and other ways to say, create, or deal with depression. Something was still missing: the joy I got from reading.

Growing up, starting from a very early age, I was an avid reader, and always read way above my grade level. I read through the elementary school before 4th grade, was into college level long before high school, and off the charts after that. But, as many people can identify with, I lost all that somewhere along the way. I have books, sure, but it seems less time to read. Life and family and things got in the way and I was missing that energy.

I guess it was all a dream, as visions often are. I was looking at a book, up through translucent pages at a reader; their face obscured beyond. The pages were blank, and I took up a pen and started writing down a story. The words were coming out backwards as I wrote them, and they looked as they would in a book to the reader. I could see the reader react as the words flowed onto the page above me. More, though, I could feel the reactions; joy, sadness, surprise, anger, shock. All of it in response to the words I was putting down on the page.

I felt such a strong connection to the feelings I had in all the books I’ve ever read. I realized then that writing gives me that same feeling that reading did. Being totally immersed in a story as to be in another world, another place, another life. What an amazing feeling it is to be able to create those worlds, those places, and those lives.

I am in love with the idea of human diversity. There are so many different varieties of people, each with their own way to show love. I enjoy the stories we all share; wanting love, seeking love, and, hopefully, finding our own Happily Ever After.

Now I get to write those stories, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.