I’ve spent most of my life dreaming of worlds that didn’t exist. Or worlds that didn’t exist yet. I’ve also spent most of life avoiding the thing I wanted most. I wanted to be a writer, but writers are poor, they said. Writers are miserable, they said. I believed them. I trusted them. I avoided following my dreams.
Maybe I’ve finally grown up. I hope not adults sucks. Maybe ideas are viruses demanding to be spread. I don’t know. What I do know is I’m finally doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I am writing. More importantly, I am publishing.
I am being me.
—Scott—