Something something, dark side
I get a kick out of watching people read my stuff. A smile, a laugh, a book thrown in my face because I killed a character... anything but boredom and I'm having a good day.
I think most of us want to feel relevant. I shipped myself off to military school when I was seventeen because I felt like I was slipping down a path to telling the same stories as the other suits at cocktail parties. In the past couple of decades, I've acted, sung, shot and been shot at, been extorted by men with machetes, flown a helicopter low over the Helmand river, traveled to twenty-four countries (just counted that out on my fingers), and I have more unique stories than I've been to cocktail parties. I'm still figuring out if that was the path of least resistance or the unreasonable expectations of a teenager taken to their illogical conclusion.
Writing a book was one of those bucket-list items I thought I'd knock out in a few weeks and turned into an addiction. It turns out stories are like that zombie-ant fungus; once they infect you, they make you want to climb to the highest point and burst into spores.
If you're a reader, thank you and I'm sorry. Drop me a note sometime.
Member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America and author of 7 books and counting.