I decided. It seemed much easier sitting at a beachside café drinking margaritas with my wife. She had asked if I was happy. Before I even answered we knew the answer was no. We had known for a while. I hated the practice of law. It had been obvious since I almost dropped out part way through the second year of law school. So what was I going to do? She didn’t care as long as I was happy and I pursued it whole heartedly. “Writing” had been my answer.
I have always wanted to write but never had the courage to pursue it. I have been obsessed with fantasy and science fiction novels since my mother brought home a copy of The Hobbit. She told me I had to read it by the end of the summer. I asked her for more four days later. Since then, whenever I drive past a stand of trees on a hillside, through a wooded valley, or walk through the forest, the world around me comes to life with feats and creatures of mythical proportions.
So, you want to write eh? Great! Now what? The answer scared me to the marrow. I had to write of course. My wife suggested taking a class at Bellevue College. She asked me to sign up for a “Write a Novel in a Month” class, and I have.
Holy Crap! Write a novel in a month? It apparently can be done, and I am going to do it. Things have to start somewhere right?