I have always loved writing.  I remember trying to write my very first book in elementary.  My dad read us The Hobbit  and The Lord of the Rings series as we grew up, so much of my writing has a heavy influence in fantasy/science fiction.  As such, this early novel was a fantasy masterpiece.  I made maps, complete with names of towns, provinces, continents, etc.  Yes, I was a geek, but a thorough one.  Looking back, it surprises me that I understood the concept of a character sketch, or a plot timeline…all tools that the experts encourage.  I don’t ever remember anyone telling me to go about things in that way—it just made sense to me.

That novel was doomed for failure: being an impressionable child, and one with very sensitive feelings, even the slightest criticism would have sunk the idea like a pirate ship.  But, it wasn’t a simple criticism, but a major one.

Being the youngest, my brothers never needed a good reason to tease me.  They still don’t.  So, any slight hint of weakness was often attacked ruthlessly.  Like blood in the water, the sharks approached and took bites at their whim.  Emotional scaring.  Good times.

Not that I am bitter or anything! =)

I made the mistake (innocent, I must stress) of naming one of the towns on my map ‘Brothel’.

What elementary kid knows what that means?  I certainly didn’t.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called it that.  But, it was already committed to paper.  What was I to do?  My brothers caught wind of it, and the rest is better left to a professional…or a telemarketer.

<Insert here the sound of a WWII bomber falling out of the sky in a fireball>

So much for that idea.

My writing hid like a gopher, emerging randomly, poking its head out of the ground from time to time, just to take a look around.  Just as quickly as it had emerged, it would duck back into the ground to hide from a perceived threat, sometimes real, usually imagined.

My writing took on life again in high school.  I had a FANTASTIC English teacher in 10th grade.  Mrs. Bean.  You rock, Mary Lou.

Not only was she fun, but, to my absolute joy, she also taught creative writing.

Creative writing?  Sounds interesting.

Now, those WERE some good times.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Bean threw a stumbling block in my path that tripped me up for a long time.

“Andy, don’t be a writer!  There are so few people that actually make it as a writer.  Be a doctor instead!”

This was good advice.  I focused on getting my education (although not as a doctor), which has done a lot for my writing.  In the process, I found out that science rocks!  Plus, it gives me a legitimate, challenging way to pay the bills. =)

I didn’t take my writing seriously after that bit of advice, however.  Sure, I still dabbled here and there, but it was more for fun—to make people smile or to express myself.

It wasn’t until I was working at Desert Samaritan Hospital in Mesa that the idea of writing took on some sort of permanency.  I had written about 2 chapters of my current book at that point (I think), and it was still just an unreachable dream.

While I was a new employee, the lab bought new chemistry analyzers and, since I was training (and very bright), they thought it would be a good idea to train me on everything relating to the analyzers.  It was then my job to take care of them and train everyone else.

Having a new piece of instrumentation is very much a baptism of fire.  The manufacturer sends their experts to train you on the operation, but there are dozens of little things that they neglect to mention, or flat out just don’t know.  This happens all the time.

So, it comes down to the primary operator to figure it out and deal with.

Now, something as specific as a chemistry analyzer is not all that exciting to talk about, unless you are a real geek.  So, knowing this, I decided to email my coworkers updates for the analyzers—little things I had learned to make things easier or to avoid major problems.  In order to make them memorable (and somewhat interesting) I put my writing skills to work and tried to make them fun.  Well, as fun as an email about a chemistry analyzer can be, that is.

Desert Sam is part of a large network of hospitals, called the Banner Health System.  For those who live in Phoenix, you will probably be familiar with it.  This company was using Desert Sam as a proving ground for this particular analyzer, with the intention of implementing them into the rest of the company.  Needless to say, they were working closely with us.

Imagine my surprise when a lot of the higher-up people in the company would stop me in the lab:

“Your emails are so funny!  I get a kick out of them!  Do you mind if I send it to some of my friends?  Are you going to write more?”

This was a surprise, because I did not send my emails to any of them…just my coworkers.  Evidently, someone had forwarded my emails on, those little stinkers!

This had an impression upon me, of course, but it wasn’t until one of my coworkers found a dirty body fluid cell counting chamber that I had an epiphany.  This coworker was disgusted that someone did not clean it, allowing mold to grow.

And the “Ode to Fungo” poem was born.  I wish I still had a copy of it.

This coworker loved it.  She took it home and hung it up on her refrigerator.

“Andy, you should think about writing as a career.  You could be like J K Rowling.”

Enter the epiphany.

I don’t know why, but I took her seriously.  Up till then, whenever someone made a similar statement, I was like: “Okay, whatever.”

But suddenly I was like: “Really?”

There is an incredibly powerful moment when a dream stops being a dream and becomes a possibility.  To say that it is magical robs it of its intensity and raw power.  I think it holds within it the essence of life.  It is awe; it is wonder; it is exciting.

Since then, I have had more people than I can count tell me that I have missed my vocation in life.  I do not share with most people my passion for writing—at least how serious I am about it.

Recent epic literature from the hand of Andrew M includes:

Romancing the Elderly, parts 1-3…4 may be in the works sometime soon;

Deep thoughts of self-affirmation (a whole story in and of itself);

Elbony Deathrage’s reasoning as to why his department is the best at ARUP;

A ‘Happy Birthday’ card from a serial axe-murderer to a coworker;

A ‘Job Wanted’ add for a jewelry counter attendant at Walmart;

An email from Douglas Q Merrell to himself (classic).

There are others, but I can’t remember what they are.

I know I have already talked about my writing.  I know I will talk about it again.  It is such a huge part of my life, and I love it.  I love my creativity—it amazes me every time I explore it.  People frequently ask me where I come up with stuff.  Honestly, I don’t know.  What I do know is that every time I sit down to write, there is something there.  It is cool.

Really, it's cool.

The difficulty I face currently for my writing, aside from time obligations between work and family, is chiefly that of the unknown.  You’ve got to understand that, as a writer, no one can really tell you how to write.  Sure, you will have plenty who would love to give you instructions, but they are just as apt to be full of crap as anyone else.  Bad advice is a disease, and it spreads like one, too.

For the sake of clarity, let me put it this way: my book, my creation, my writing—no one has ever done it before.  Thus, no one can tell me how to do it.  No one will do it for me—even if they did, they wouldn’t be as effective as I am.  That doesn’t mean that no one else can write—it simply means it is mine.  It is my blessing and my burden.

I have learned to trust myself with my writing.  Again, I am very creative, and the well has never been dry, no matter how many times I have opened the lid.  There is always something there, and there always will be.

But I have to find my own way.  I have to forge my own path.

I appreciate the support I receive and the faith I feel from those around me about my writing.  The development of this book has been a journey of self-discovery for me.  No, I have not given up.  Much of the creative process is unpredictable.  It is chaos, and so, seems very random to me.  But, I have to respect the process, because I have also learned that, if the process is forced, it is not as good as it could be.  Even when things seem dormant, there is an inertia that moves the whole thing forward.  It’s just that the progress is not very definable or measurable sometimes, and that is frustrating, even to me.

For those of you who are interested, stay tuned.  Things are moving in the right direction.

Thanks again for reading!

I usually do not require any instigation to get the ball rolling, but I often find inspiration in day-to-day life.  As such, if anyone is interested, I am ‘opening up the request line’.  Does anyone have any ideas for me to write on?  Writing is a skill like any other—the more you practice, the better you get.  Which is why I think this blogging thing is good for me.  But I am open to a good challenge.

Feel free to throw the gauntlet. 

BRING IT!