Day 10 -- Why I'm Here

Ever since I turned thirteen I wanted to be a writer.  The idea of crafting worlds for others to enjoy seemed like a fantastic idea and a terrific creative outlet for someone who couldn't sing, act or paint.   I spent most of my childhood making up characters that I could become or devising make believe obstacles that I needed to overcome.  However, I couldn't spell worth a damn and hand writing one page took almost an entire hour, so writing anything of value took so much concentration and time that I always stopped after a few paragraphs.

It turned out that I have dyslexic dysgraphia, a learning disability that I didn't discover until age 23.  I did OK at school, but by now I've grown so creatively lazy that putting together a story seemed not only tedious, but incredibly daunting.   Besides, I'm the kind of guy who goes to a party and can only manage to strike up conversations with the host's inbred gerbil and the guy who smells vaguely like bologna.  I'm mostly dull, ornery and a tad North of Center (whatever that means).  Those qualities don't usually translate into published author -- unless you're Nathanial Hawthorne.

But having a kid changed my outlook and made me re-examine my dreams.  Up to that point the most significant thing I accomplished -- besides all that marriage and reproducing junk -- was being on a three man team that ate 42 bean burritos in a single sitting.  I want to be some one the Princess looks up to. Her hero, not some dude who sits on the couch watching reruns of Quantum Leap on Netflix.  How can I be a role model to my little girl without pursuing at least one of my dreams?  And until they invent a personal inter-dimensional transporter or a man to fish translator, I guess I'll pursue writing.

So, after a year or so of prodding from the Queen, I put finger to key and Losing the Internets was born.  At first the ides was to convince myself that creative writing wasn't some impossible chore and to possibly develop a personal writing style.  Instead, I find myself writing for others instead of myself.  The greatest joy that comes from this blog isn't when I finish what I think is a particularly witty post, but the reaction from friends, friends of friends, and (most of all) strangers.  It's amazing the absolute thrill I get when someone likes what I wrote enough to hit share on Facebook.

That may sound insecure, but deep down don't we all want Mommy to hang our artwork on the refrigerator door?

Now I feel like I have to push myself to get better and faster at writing while growing this community.  The 30 Days of Shameless Self-Promotion acts as my marathon, a test to see if I have the fortitude to keep going.  Luke had to raise his X-Wing to get off Dagobah, The New Direction had to beat Vocal Adrenaline to win Nationals, Peyton Manning had to best Tom Brady, and I have to beat myself.  And as dirty as that sounds,the 30 Days of Shameless Self-Promotion shall not overtake me. I will become a more concise writer.  I will grow this audience.  I will emerge the victor!  Remember the Alamo!

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Please note:  My editor decided to fall asleep -- and snore loudly -- before this post was finished.  If you find egregious errors, please consult the management.