We all have dreams in life. Or, at least I believe we should. My dream since I can remember, is, was, to be a writer. Every essay I wrote in class, every book report, short stories based on dreams or fears. I have tried writing in every genre. I have even written some poetry. I remember my parents signing me up for a kids book club because they were tired of the countless trips to the library. My brother tired of having to help me carry my pile of books home. Trying to get my friends interested in reading, I made my own little library in my room. In the summer, my dad kicked me and my books out to the shed behind the garage. I remember coming home one day from the park because it was raining. I thought it would be nice to sit on my cushions in my shed to read. When I opened the door, I was heartbroken. The roof of the shed was not waterproof. I cried and ran with armfuls of books back and forth from the shed to the house until all of them were rescued and safely back in my room. I don't think my dad ever understood why I was crying. When I told my mom, she understood. A week later, her friends had sent her home with a box of books for me. When I got a little older, one of my dad's friends gave me The Sword of Shannara. He told me that when I finished it, if I liked it, he would give me the rest of the series. I overheard him tell my dad that I was too young. That I may not like it and that even if I did, it would likely take me a long time to read it. My dad scoffed at him. "You clearly don't know Rachel," he said. My dad was right. I read the book within two weeks and begged him to give me the other two before I left for summer vacation. I finished them before we came home and begged my dad to take me to a bookstore. I walked out of the book store with a copy of The Stand. Terry Brooks and Stephen King were the start for me. Two completely different genres, different styles. So much talent, pulled me in. I started reading all sorts of books. Absorbing talent every where I could. I remember reading that to be a great author you had to be a great reader. That you had to have an open mind and explore all styles. By the end of that summer I bought a notebook and had started writing snippets of my own story ideas. I carried that notebook with me everywhere I went and wrote in it every time I had an idea. I would wake up in the middle of the night to scribble in the dark. I was a word addict. I was far from being Terry Brooks or Stephen King. I knew I would never get there if I didn't continuously work on it. I held my notebook sacred and never shared it with anyone. Until my next summer vacation. Dad and I were on our way home from summer vacation when dad was ushered by police officers to pull over on the highway. He was told that the highways were closed due to forest fires and we would have to either find a hotel or a campground. Being we were travelling in a camper, dad opted for the campground across the highway. It was a nice, quaint spot. It wasn't busy, which my dad appreciated. We picked a spot close to the water, next to a small car. After settling in we took a walk to the water. There, we found a man playing fetch with his dog. This dog was amazing. He didn't want to play normal fetch. He wanted to dive in the water to fetch rocks from the bottom.
We introduced ourselves to the man who happened to be our camp neighbor in the car. My dad, being the generous man he is, invited this new friend, Richard, to join us in our camper. We were camped there for over a week. During that time Richard watched me constantly with my nose in a book. Either reading or writing in my notebook. Regardless of my dad's protests, I had brought five books with me on vacation then bought four more while I was in the city. Being so young, this intrigued Richard. One night as we sat around the fire, I pulled out my notebook and started writing frantically. When I finished, I looked into the fire, a satisfied smile on my face. “You write a lot,” Richard observed, “Is it a diary?” “Actually, they are poems and stories." “Is that so?” Richard raised an eyebrow. Afraid of my dreams being made fun of, I put my head down, “Umm hmm. It is,” I said quietly. “Well,” he said loudly, forcing me to look up, his smile was genuine. “I write too.” That night Richard asked me to read him a story I had written. I was scared. What if he thought my writing was silly? I read the story anyway. Hesitantly, I looked up when I was done and found him speechless. After that, Richard would take me for a soda once a week where we would share our writings. His limericks were insightful and funny. He insisted I enter one of my poems into a contest. Without giving it another thought, I did it. To my surprise, I was one of the runners up in the contest. My poem was published in an anthology and put on a plaque at a courthouse in Washington State. Sadly, i had no money to buy a copy of the book and I have never had the opportunity to see my poem on the wall. When I left home, Richard wrote me letters, always encouraging me to write. Even to this day, he still emails me. He shares with me his poetry and asks when he can buy my books. Stephen King and Terry Brooks are my inspiration. Richard is my push. What do you aspire in life? Who, or what, inspires you or is your "push"? Please leave a comment below or on my Twitter or my FaceBook. As always, thank you for your support.
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An alien civilization, observing our planet for thousands of years, has chosen one individual to make its initial contact with the human race. Maybe they chose the wrong human. Th FI is a written narrative backed up with links to video to take you further into the drama and interaction of its unforgettable characters. As a favor to her aunt, Alice drives into Arizona's stark and bleak Sonoran Desert to check up on her cousin who has mysteriously left his job as a chemical engineer in Houston and has moved onto the family's abandoned jojoba farm. No one has hear from in in six months. Alice hasn't seen her cousin in years. She recalls the egotistical socially dysfunctional boy that tormented her throughout her childhood. When she meets him again she finds that not much has changed about his unpleasant personality, but when he begs her to return to videotape a message he desperately needs to share with the world, Alice must make a fateful choice that will affect the rest of her life. First, I will start by noting that I did not receive any compensation for this honest review. As the description above states, this book was unlike any other that I have read before in that it had QR codes that linked to videos. Reading this book reminds me why I loved doing book reviews in the first place. Sci-Fi is not my usual first pick for when I buy a book, so getting it to review was a gift. I truly enjoyed this book. The story explores the main character's interaction with an alien species. It uses the dynamics of family relationships and friendship to tell a tale. The story flows nicely and is quick to pull you in. I was a little worried at one point that there would not be enough pages left to wrap it up. Thankfully I was wrong and Paul pulled it all together smoothly and effortlessly. Paul did a great job with his debut novel and I sincerely hope to see more from him. Buy your copy on Amazon here and click to follow this author for more. You can also read my GoodReads review here. You can have a look at my profile for other reviews I have done. Please leave a comment below or on my Twitter or my FaceBook. If you would like me to review your book, please send me a message. As always, thank you for your support. "It put them into an absolute frenzy. Actually did a little damage." |