Now, there’s a thought for you. I started writing in my teens, and for the most part, during those few years, it was a staple of my daily ritual. I would get up in the morning, have a quick protein drink (Yes, I started drinking those at early age, too), head off to school, and sit through a few doldrum classes (I can’t remember to this day what they were). I would start to get excited when it came time for my study hall period. That’s when I pulled out the pen and paper and began to create my stories. Each selection would be unique and range in genre from sci-fi to thrillers. If I wasn’t saving the galaxy or taking down criminals, the day wasn’tcomplete.
But somewhere between the age of seventeen and thirty-seven (uh oh…I’m dating myself now), my daily journey with right-brain activities became less and less, and then, for the most part, nonexistent. Well, to this day, I believe a large part of me was lost. Several times during those years, I would sometimes get the nerve to sit at the pc and start typing a story…only never finishing it.
After a work related injury, I vowed to re-ignite my hunger for writing. I set small goals for myself and, without much difficulty, surpassed them. Soon, I had finished my first novel, and to be honest, the publication of it wasn’t my only agenda. The reality was this: the ability to create was never lost, just sidetracked. After such a layoff, I knew writing was a part of me, and that would never disappear. For me, to write, is a option…I don’t have. Next week I’m going to have an update in regards to my upcoming publication, Weaving Evil…so stay tuned and remember, death is only a click away!
Jeffrey Martin's Novels 