Ever heard of Walter Mitty? I’m him. This blog is me taking life and dream into hand while leaping into the unknown. For as long as I can remember others have always told me their stories. Friends, family, strangers all have felt the need to tell me what existence has seen fit to give them. And I’ve born their words with patience, and a listening ear. But now it’s my turn to speak. It’s my turn to open the window of my mind and free the stories that have been cooped up waiting to spread wing and take flight.
Even as a young child I remember making up elaborate stories for every kind of toy I played with, I even made up stories when I’d walk home from school in the snow. Growing up my house was filled with books. Having a father that was obsessed with books provided a limitless supply to my young and voracious mind.
At night my father would read his favorite books to me until his gentle voice would lull me to sleep. As I grew older I found myself reading into the darkest hours of the night, covers tucked all around me.
I didn’t actually feel like I could write until I met the love of my life. She taught me how to put myself onto written pages, making the words come to life right in front of me. Now I find myself often penning down hundreds of untold stories in the dead of night, with the owls. Happy reading.