Let's talk about me...shall we?
It was just a regular winter morning of the year one thousand nine hundred and eighty one, people went about their business, as usual. Those running late for work were still late; those who were hungry continued to search for something to devour; and those who waited for something more kept on waiting. But this particular morning turned out to be unlike any other, magic happened. The gates of thousands of unknown realms opened and out came majestic unicorns, ice breathing dragons, monsters, princesses and villains, fairies spreading marvelous glitter over the tiny city of Monclova, Coahuila, and many more creatures whose names remain unwritten.
Each and every one of them taunted the unaware humans to capture them and hide their secret worlds forever.
Yet on that February morning the muses had a different plan, they descended amid mere mortals and blessed a babe with the key to all those worlds -fearlessness and and boundless imagination- just as she prepared to emerge from her mother’s womb.
Upon that first breath, a new wordsmith was born.
That babe was me, of course, and though my mother may swear my birth was not “that magical” I have no other way to explain who I am, why I love words so much and what has become of me since I embraced my humble vocation.
Each and every one of them taunted the unaware humans to capture them and hide their secret worlds forever.
Yet on that February morning the muses had a different plan, they descended amid mere mortals and blessed a babe with the key to all those worlds -fearlessness and and boundless imagination- just as she prepared to emerge from her mother’s womb.
Upon that first breath, a new wordsmith was born.
That babe was me, of course, and though my mother may swear my birth was not “that magical” I have no other way to explain who I am, why I love words so much and what has become of me since I embraced my humble vocation.
I was born to write, and proof of that is that I don’t know the meaning of Writer’s Block. I am either writing, thinking of writing, dreaming of writing or catching inspiration when doing non-writing stuff. This is how my life has always been. I got my first job at age nine, no, not as a writer but housekeeping and tending to an elderly couple that live a few minutes away from my home. They had a big house with a backyard full of apricot trees, I could get lost for hours staring at the shadows they projected on the ground.
In spite of my efforts, my work was not always pleasing to the Mistress of the house, and I remember well how she would frown pointing at the freshly mopped floor and stated it wasn’t done right. And on my knees I went down, with a bucket of cold water and an old stinky rag, scrubbing the floors until she could see her reflection and offered a half smile.
Was it horrible, you ask? Not to me, it was on those moments were my gift saved me, for stories formed in my head and endless adventure begun and though my body spent hours working hard my mind traveled far away and there I found my voice.
I wrote in middle school, high school. At age sixteen I joined my first writing/critique group with a local poetry magazine that included several of my teachers. I was the youngest there. My every poem was torn to shreds by these magnificent poets but instead of crying and being angry at their criticism I looked forward to it. I wanted to learn, to be better at my craft and I continue to work on it all through college, I even got one of my teachers to notice that. She wrote “I love the way you express yourself, you should write a book” as an observation in one of my papers.
I knew where I wanted to go with my writing and then I stopped. My writing voice fell silent. I focused on my home, my ‘real’ life, motherhood and my accounting career for many years and I forgot who I was, until I fell in the pits of despair, many dreams and castle walls came crashing down and I needed saving once more. And that’s when the rivers of crazy inspiration flooded my mind and I became whole again.
In spite of my efforts, my work was not always pleasing to the Mistress of the house, and I remember well how she would frown pointing at the freshly mopped floor and stated it wasn’t done right. And on my knees I went down, with a bucket of cold water and an old stinky rag, scrubbing the floors until she could see her reflection and offered a half smile.
Was it horrible, you ask? Not to me, it was on those moments were my gift saved me, for stories formed in my head and endless adventure begun and though my body spent hours working hard my mind traveled far away and there I found my voice.
I wrote in middle school, high school. At age sixteen I joined my first writing/critique group with a local poetry magazine that included several of my teachers. I was the youngest there. My every poem was torn to shreds by these magnificent poets but instead of crying and being angry at their criticism I looked forward to it. I wanted to learn, to be better at my craft and I continue to work on it all through college, I even got one of my teachers to notice that. She wrote “I love the way you express yourself, you should write a book” as an observation in one of my papers.
I knew where I wanted to go with my writing and then I stopped. My writing voice fell silent. I focused on my home, my ‘real’ life, motherhood and my accounting career for many years and I forgot who I was, until I fell in the pits of despair, many dreams and castle walls came crashing down and I needed saving once more. And that’s when the rivers of crazy inspiration flooded my mind and I became whole again.
My debut Epic Novel The Everlands Chronicles -The Truth was published in July 2015, followed by the charming short story collection The Twelve Stories of Christmas in December. In May of 2016 I released Midnight Deja Vu and shortly after in July She Drowned joined my virtual library under the label of horror short stories with an edge of paranormal -not for the faint of heart for sure! Lastly in September 2016 the second volume of The Everlands Chronicles - The Knowledge joined volume number one in the publication realm along with book three: The Everlands Chronicles - The Honor, while volume four in the series is currently on the editing table along with my first illustrated Children's Stories Pom Pom Yeti Adventures, that my children love and the long awaited Regency Series Stand and Deliver inspired by the wonderful poem The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. Also on the works and hopefully soon coming to virtual bookshelves everywhere is: Igni Necari what I would call my literary pride and joy!
There's magic in the stories that I write, whether it is full of hope, color and rainbows or darkness, guts and gore. I believe this. I truly do. There is no way I can pinpoint to a single source of inspiration, it comes from everything and anything. When I sleep, eat, workout or drive, when I talk or sit quietly. Writing is in my mind because that’s who I am. I create worlds with words out of thin air, just how amazing is that?
But in order to do that and still manage the rest of my life I had to learn to multitask.
Running around with three kids, cooking, cleaning, helping with homework, making sure they take baths and we do cuddle time, after fulfilling my full-time accounting office duties and my part-time wellness coach follow ups, working out like crazy, training for obstacle races, signing up for 5K's and taking online classes on top of that, making time for writing becomes a challenge in itself, I have to improvise or all is lost (insert dramatic music here).
There's magic in the stories that I write, whether it is full of hope, color and rainbows or darkness, guts and gore. I believe this. I truly do. There is no way I can pinpoint to a single source of inspiration, it comes from everything and anything. When I sleep, eat, workout or drive, when I talk or sit quietly. Writing is in my mind because that’s who I am. I create worlds with words out of thin air, just how amazing is that?
But in order to do that and still manage the rest of my life I had to learn to multitask.
Running around with three kids, cooking, cleaning, helping with homework, making sure they take baths and we do cuddle time, after fulfilling my full-time accounting office duties and my part-time wellness coach follow ups, working out like crazy, training for obstacle races, signing up for 5K's and taking online classes on top of that, making time for writing becomes a challenge in itself, I have to improvise or all is lost (insert dramatic music here).
My purse is heavy with notebooks, pens and sticky notes, I write mostly on my phone and synchronize the files in all the electronic devices I possess in my house. I scribble a note or two when I am cooking, or while sitting in a never-ending red light. I have become a pro at writing without looking at the page or how without worrying at how neat the handwriting will turn out.
Excuses I can find everywhere, but I know for certain that I rather be writing than working; I rather be writing than eating; I rather be writing than sleeping...I think you know where I am going with this, writing is my passion and the source of much happiness and completion for me, it’s my home inside my home; the voice that calls me to action; the beacon of light in the darkest of nights.
This I believe and this I teach, one must love what one does, or one can never truly be happy. I hope that you can feel the emotions I felt as you go from page to page and that you seek in your life for those adventures that defy all expectations of what life is suppose to be and allow your calling to find you as mine has found me.
Happy Mischief,
AJ
Excuses I can find everywhere, but I know for certain that I rather be writing than working; I rather be writing than eating; I rather be writing than sleeping...I think you know where I am going with this, writing is my passion and the source of much happiness and completion for me, it’s my home inside my home; the voice that calls me to action; the beacon of light in the darkest of nights.
This I believe and this I teach, one must love what one does, or one can never truly be happy. I hope that you can feel the emotions I felt as you go from page to page and that you seek in your life for those adventures that defy all expectations of what life is suppose to be and allow your calling to find you as mine has found me.
Happy Mischief,
AJ