For those who have read this blog over the last five years or followed the lonehorseend account on Twitter for the last six, you know I’ve been inconsistent in my posting. No real excuse for that other than I needed the time for other stuff. Now, I have a few important things to do, and social media is the only way I’m going to create enough buzz to achieve my goals.
I want to be a published author with at least one successful series and a few movies based on those books under my belt. Not only that, I want to direct at least one of the films.
Big dreams? Fantasies? Go take a chill pill and get real? No, thank you.
When I was born, the doctors shone a light up my nose and it came out the back of my head. They turned to my parents and told them to go put me in a mental ward since I wasn’t going to be anything other than a vegetable. Sure, it took me a little longer to walk and talk. My eyesight isn’t perfect, either. However, if you and I were to meet on the street, you wouldn’t be able to tell.
I have a BA from San Francisco State University and know how to design and develop websites. With the publishing of six hundred thousand to one million new books each year, the odds of my books making it anywhere close to being popular aren’t exactly encouraging. So why even try? Why not just be a computer jockey for the rest of my life and make guaranteed money? Simple answer, my brain isn’t wired for the advanced logical abstract concepts needed by a top-level programmer. A more complicated one is that because of my eyesight, I experience things with all my senses and find beauty and understanding in patterns and composition. The computer is just a cold, logical machine that has to be taught to think. There are days when I feel tentacles crawling out of its monitor, looking to strangle me. I need creativity to keep the monster of frustration at bay.
I’ve tried music and drawing. I love them, but they are the weakest of my artistic abilities. Photography, creating stuff from existing pictures and text, editing (audio, visual, and writing), and writing are what I’m decent, maybe even good, at. I would say great, but that sounds too conceited. Besides, I know I have a lot to learn in all those areas. Still they are what I enjoy doing. More than that, I feel satisfied and complete when I finish a task or project involving my imagination. I know I can make a living by telling stories with words or photographs, if the opportunity arises.
Opportunities don’t just happen; they are created. I am creating my own. Yes, I’ve been a fool in some respects, doing and saying things I regret. Anything illegal? No, but the guilt weighs just has heavy.
What happens if I fail? While I’m trying not to think along those lines. I recognize that the possibility is there. However, I know my capacity for following the trail of infinite “what ifs” and locking myself up in the process. Should I not succeed, it’s going to hurt. Somehow, I will find a way to bounce back. I always have. The fight to right myself will be a lot harder, though, because so much of me has been invested in the process of creating my characters and stories.
I want to make a difference in people’s lives, if only for a moment. I also want to prove, mainly to myself, that I’m normal. If this means I have to be extraordinary and defy the odds yet again, then so be it.