What life lesson did you learn too late?
I put this off for far too long.
I was afraid, and so I waited. To share, to publish, to write, to put pen to paper.
I took the route of the normal person, until now, when I am almost thirty years old.
I was, of course, embarrassed. I wonder if Tolkien was? Or Lewis, or Herbert? Does Sanderson feel ashamed of his work?
I know, I’m never likely to reach that caliber of author, that prolific production, which those great writers share in. The quality of their worlds.
But there is a writer in me, screaming to be let out. I love to read, but I have a world of my own, like many others, and yet different. Beautiful, and terrible. Glorious, yet corrupted.
There are heroes and villains there, and there are those between. The everyman, doing his good work. People who break the mold, and people who make it.
And the gothic architecture of its grand halls!! The sleek design of its navies!
The technology of its future, the magic of its past, are all there, inside my head.
Had I but let it out sooner, you might be reading it now. Alas, I was afraid.
I am afraid.
Yet, so it begins.
Will you join me, dear reader?
