I consider myself a free-range child. The independence I grew up with was the catalyst for a lot of adventure. Sometimes I think that maybe I should have written more to be a good writer, maybe started earlier. But then I realize that my childhood, and growing up years have groomed me what I want to write – wonder and adventure.
Adventure waits…
One of my earliest memory is of climbing. When I was four or five we lived across the street from a park. We would run over there and the first thing I would do is shuck my shoes, rub my feet in the dirt and climb, like a monkey, up the swing set to sit on the top. And it doesn’t stop there. My play was always rich with swords and bows, sailing imaginary rivers on not so imaginary boats, made out of tarps and grape vines. I hiked, rode a unicycle, walked on stilts, and learned to fence. A 2nd degree black belt in TaeKwonDo and an orange belt in Kaze Arashi RyuI taught me to fold my hand into a proper fist and write a nasty fight scene.
I have jumped off cliffs, sometimes attached to a rope and sometimes not. And occasionally I have climbed back up the cliffs. I know more knots than the average sailor, built bridges, and forts out of sticks and rope. In Eastern Oregon I bucked, in Western Oregon I body surfed in the pacific ocean without a wetsuit. In Taiwan I swam on the other side of the pacific ocean, which was weirdly warm, while telling tales of ghosts and zombie armies rising from the deep. I’ve eaten things I can’t pronounce and accidently became a Buddhist. I’ve forgotten the password to heaven and read ancient Chinese philosophers.
Each author is the sum of their experiences and I feel like mine will only make the stories I tell richer. So come with me, come on an adventure. Because, I love adventure.
