Stories

I love stories—have since before I can remember. 

My parents tell me that they could get an extra half an hour of sleep in the mornings simply by putting books in my crib. There’s also a picture of me in a blanket fort surrounded with what looks like all the books that were in my possession at the time. But I didn’t always simply look at the pictures, nor did I have to have a live person physically read the books to me. I may or may not have possessed the largest collection of books on tape known to mankind. Initially, it was just a bunch of Disney movies condensed into 10-12 page books that came with cassette tapes, but I must have worn my mother’s nerves thin listening to the same stories over and over. So she came up with a rather brilliant plan. We lay down in our tiny living room floor one day with a huge stack of books and she recorded herself reading them all to me, with my high pitched 3-year-old voice saying “Turn the page!” at the appropriate moment.

Needless to say, I came by my love of stories honest. Both of my parents are avid readers, and my father, being unable to tell a joke to save his life, can spin quite a yarn. So it should come to no surprise that in such a nurturing environment, my love for a wicked awesome tale grew exponentially with each passing year of my life. Now, I read books like crazy, become highly addicted to television shows that catch my interest, will click through an entire web-comic in one sitting, and could honestly watch movies from the moment my eyes open in the morning ‘til well past they should have closed for sleep that night.

I’m not terribly picky when it comes to which kind of stories I like. They can be long, short, vapid, deep, simple, belief challenging, meant for children or adults—the only thing that I require to get me truly interested is a group of utterly compelling characters. When I think about all my favorite franchises, they all have that in common. Whether it’s a whip-brandishing archaeologist, a boy-wizard with a famous scar, an alien with pointed ears, an adorable genius who catches serial killers, a fake psychic, a pissy fire-bender, or even a friendly bear who can’t help dancing to the beat, they are who I must fall in love with first in order to truly love they story they’re responsible for telling. 

So, I suppose that’s why I decided to attempt to do this blog: I want to tell my story.

I can’t promise that I will be consistent or timely with updates—who knows, I may even completely lose interest or forget the password three weeks from now—but I will do my utmost, both at actually updating and at attempting to produce something of quality.

Because if there’s one thing I hope, it’s that I’m enough of a character to tell a compelling story in the first place.