Every human is a storyteller. It is written into our DNA. We tell our stories through words, voice, art or dreams. From the cave drawings of our distant ancestors to the social media posts of the present; we seek ways in which to communicate our thoughts and ideas. To convey and make sense of the world that surrounds us.
I came to writing late, but I have always told stories. Often to amuse, sometimes to inform, occasionally to deflect or abjure. My comfort zone is Science Fiction, where I can build worlds in which I can explore and expose the human experience. While I write, the world around me slips from view and my imagined landscapes take shape. My characters talk to me and argue over their development arcs. Often, a planned journey takes a different turn as I come to know them better. To sink into my mind and take the time to imagine a scene, to explore it with all my senses, is one of life’s great pleasures.
Then the moment comes when I must let my story go free. I send it on its way, anxious for its reception in the hands of others. Hold my breath to see how it is received. But good reviews or bad I won’t stop being a storyteller. I am only human.
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