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Health & Fitness

Sometimes, It's About Love

When I started writing, I learned that it isn't about mechanics; it's about turning a soul into ink. When you love something, you find that happiness can be found anywhere you let it. An introduction.

Seventeen years. A lifetime total of over five hundred thousand written words. Three books, all unpublished. Two dozen characters partaking in constant shenanigans in my head, keeping me awake when all I want is to drift to sleep. Oh, and love. A lot of that. 

Like most parents, my mom wanted nothing more than to see me reading when I was a toddler. She was a lifetime lover of novels, and some of my earliest memories are of nestling by her side as she read me stories of Harry Potter and The Babysitter’s Club. Back in those days, I didn’t know how much of my life writing would become; I couldn’t spell the word, let alone think about what it would mean to me in a few years. As I grew up, I partook in the typical personal narratives and bad poetry assignments given to every student in elementary school. Writing was something I did and was complimented on, but it was just another school activity. 

I was 10 when I started writing my first novel. After that, I was addicted. No amount of typing could keep my fingers satisfied, and no time spent with my fictional characters was enough. The characters were a part of me, though they were no shallow reflections of myself; they had lives and hopes and dreams of their own, and even as a fifth grader, I could understand how magical that was. After that, I couldn’t stop. One novel turned to two, and two novels turned to three after I discovered National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo.org). I learned to edit. I learned to slice red pens through what I thought were delightful little sentences. I learned to search for agents. I learned how rejection felt. Still, I never stopped writing. 

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The story of my writing career can be summarized in a few short fragments. I don’t write because I’m being paid or because I’m intent on being a best-selling author when I’m older. In fact, some day, I’d like to be a neurologist.

The reason I write is difficult to understand if you’ve never read a perfect book. I’m not referring to a classic American novel, and I’m not referring to a work of grammatical flawlessness. The perfect books are the ones that swallow you and refuse to give you back to the rest of your life. They’re the ones with phrases you remember throughout your life, with characters you wish you could invite to a Friday night dinner. When I write, I have all of those things in my head. I’ll never believe my writing is perfect, but I love my stories. I love my characters, and I often find myself imagining those Friday night dinners just to see what happens. I write because I love the places my imagination takes me. Because I love the way my problems work themselves out through fantasy and science fiction. Because there’s no feeling more satisfying than holding a printed and bound copy of something you pieced together with your mind. 

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When I was asked to write a blog for Macomb Patch, I agreed, not because I thought this was going to be the all-mighty foot in the door to the world of professional writing; I did it because I thought it would be a blast. I would get to write about things from my hometown, from my high school life and, ultimately, from my mind. Boundless and eternal, my thoughts cannot be contained to an audience of myself and my family. It’s never been that way. 

So, new reader, welcome to my modest corner of the Macomb Patch. Please, pull up a seat. Let me serve you a slice of my thoughts. Perhaps you’ll enjoy listening as much as I enjoy sharing. 

By all means, welcome. 

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For more of my thoughts and my YouTube video blogs, you can find me at my personal website, www.alexiswrites.com.

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