I began writing fiction several years ago after experiencing a recurring dream. In my dream I could see faces I've never seen, hear voices I've never heard, describe places I know I've never been...Night after night, I would watch and wonder about the world that spun so crazily inside my head.
Finally, after the third night, I decided to try and capture a couple of the characters that seemed to linger long after the sun had risen. Soon, I had the beginnings of a story I've never before read. Now, as anyone who knows me will testify, I'm rarely without a book in my hand. I read constantly, in between chores, on lunch breaks, for a couple of hours each night before bed. But this was one story that didn't come from the supermarket magazine aisle or the library down the street. This one came from a place so deep inside me, I had to locate it in my sleep.
Writing soon became second nature to me. Many mornings began with me tapping away at my keyboard, a cup of caffeine within reach. But where would I go with this new and totally unexpected pastime? More importantly, where did I want it to go?
At first, no answers came to me. I was having fun, plus I had an outlet for my imagination that went above and beyond anything I'd ever encountered. Who was I to expect or even hope for anything more? For anything better?
It was then that I received the phone call that changed my priorities completely. My brother had died, you see, while I was floating along through life, playing at being a writer. I had energy with no will, determination with no goal. Focus with no true intention of ever following through.
No more, I decided the moment I watched him buried. I would take this pastime of mine and make it matter. Make the time and energy I'd already expended mean something to someone other than me.
I began with my family and friends, asking them to critique my work as harshly and honestly as can be. Later, I moved on to strangers, sending in samples of my work to agents and publishing companies, editors whose faces I'll never see. All responses came back positive, which enticed me to push just that much further in reaching my publishing dreams. Oh yes, I have those now. My big brother gave them to me. No longer will I write to simply pass the time; instead I write for the time it takes to fully realize my dreams. With your help and consideration, I firmly believe that I can achieve anything.
Thicker than Water is the first of many novels I've written, the first to be pulled out of my private thoughts and made public. I invite you to read it, and enjoy. Come dream with me...