In college I must’ve written 100 papers. There were book reviews and essays; stories and articles; interpretive papers, argumentative papers, and research papers. So many papers. But it was long after my college days when I realized how much I loved writing. My epiphany came as I penned the first chapter of my first novel.

I was in the middle of a personal crisis, and I was depressed big time. I went to a coffee shop with a legal pad and a pencil. I was going to write a plan of action for how I would escape my pain. Instead, I began writing a story based on a character I had imagined. His name was Alex, his family was noble, he was young and “coming of age,” and he was a rabbit. That was the beginning of my first novel, Adventures of the Rabbit Prince. Once I got started, I didn’t want to stop! I wrote for six hours that day. The next day I dare say I was giddy with excitement to start writing again. I was thinking, “Alex has a mind of his own; I don’t know what he’s going to do next. And the landscape is unfolding before me as if I’m meandering through the forest for the first time alongside him.”

Alex’s world was my world, and the deeper I dove into that world, the more I became a part of it. If Alex was having a bad day, I commiserated with him. If he was having a great day, I celebrated with him. I was living vicariously through him, and I forgot my pain.

My other works have each had their own kernels of inspiration. For Epilogue it was a dream I had. For iPredator it was a nasty experience a friend of mine had in his business. An Error In Judgment was stimulated by an article I read in a newspaper. And David’s Letter is a family saga based on an unopened letter unearthed by my family 100 years after it was written. As I’ve penned each one of these novels I’ve fought the most savage criminals, beheld with awe the august emperors of antiquity, experienced the pain of imprisonment, struggled against a debilitating sickness that tore a family apart, and felt the sweet tenderness of falling in love.

What’s happening in my heart and mind in the moment inspires and directs my writing. Stories and the news, memories and new experiences, love and fear, anger and joy, dreams and nightmares, relationships—whole or broken—all guide me.

Every book begins with a sentence. I write it, I read it, and I delete it, and I write another one. “That works,” I think. And I write another. I scribble some more, and I’ve created a space. Perhaps it’s a room with a certain light and ambiance, or a public place filled with people. They are young or old, ordinary or flamboyant, beautiful, ugly, or ordinary. They’re dressed in cocktail dresses and tuxes, or jeans and halter tops. They’re talking, arguing, and scheming, or they’re making love.

Voila! There it is! I have created a scene with characters in a place with action and dialogue. I keep writing, and the pages continue to roll out. There are 500 words, and then 1,000 words, until finally after eight hours and lots of coffee, there are 2,000 words.

I close the document on my computer, and I smile. It’s been a full day, it’s been a great day in a world filled with anticipation, intrigue, and discovery. That’s my world, and I hope you a enjoy your journey exploring it with me.