People often ask me where I got my love of writing, and my answer is always the same, "My father". He taught me the beauty in reading, the way it has the ability to transport you to a magical place where your own problems vanish. A place where you don't need to be thin, beautiful, smart, or even loved. A place where for a couple of hours, days, or however long it takes you to read a book, you are not you-you are them. Not that there's anything wrong with being you, or your life, or your problems. But how amazing is it that you can seize to exist for that amount of time?
My father was an amazing writer, he wasn't published traditionally or otherwise, but he always shared his art with others. He had this way of writing that was poetic yet simple, and I loved it. On July 5th, he would have turned fifty-eight years young. I won't sit here and explain how much I miss him because I'm sure if you've loved and you've lost, you know how much my heart hurts when I think of him not being here.
People say that he's smiling down and proud of my accomplishments, and I always wonder, "What accomplishments?" Well, for the first time in my life I know that I did something that he is smiling down at me for. I know he would be proud that unlike him, I did share my work with the world. I did gather up the courage to hit that publish button after many, many years of keeping things to myself.
So in honor of the man that gave me life not once, not twice, but three times: one when I was born, the second when he taught me the magic of reading, and lastly when he showed me the power in writing. The second book in the series, Darkness Before Dawn, will be on sale the remainder of the week. That is, when Amazon decides to switch the price to .99 ;).