I was born on the winter solstice, the first day the light begins to return. Since then, I have collected degrees and stories: the papers on my walls hint about time spent on the stage, in physics laboratories, in classrooms discussing philosophy and religion and science. But the stories don’t start or end there. I have discovered narratives in pubs in small Scottish towns, tall tales at archery gatherings, wondrous beginnings from children and students…
Writing happened somewhere along the way, somewhere between learning mathematics and trying to understand human psychology. The words just came, and I find myself writing stories and daydreams and discovering moments of beauty.
I have fallen for metaphors and science and magic and archery. I have found myself tangled in leaves and words that have captured my imagination.
I blogged for a few years on Not Your Average Ordinary, and I thought I was done, but you’ll still find me there.
This is my manifesto:
1. We aren’t waiting for the stories. We create the stories. Make a scene. Give people better stories and draw them in to the ones you’re living.
2. The world needs myths and fairy tales. Modern ones. Not ones where a prince rescues a distressed damsel, but ones where people save each other.
3. The most powerful force on this planet is not found in the nucleus of an atom but in our hearts.
4. We are light. Burn like you’re a supernova, baby.