Updated: Aug 13, 2019
When I was about 6 years old, I majestically decided that I wanted to write a book. The crumpled, stapled, crayon and food covered mess I composed never amounted to much, but that dream of writing stayed deep in my soul. Life, school and responsibilities quietly stepped in front, but it always lingered. My responsibilities were real: bills, college, D1 track and field, work, marriage, my father dying, births, childhood cancer, more deaths, supporting our family business.
Almost 4 decades later, that dream just wouldn't stay silent. Stephen Spielberg once said that when you have a dream, when you know what you are supposed to do and be, it often just whispers. Once again, I ceremoniously declared I was going to write, this time in the form of a blog. Quicker communication, more flexible, no publishing headaches. Tried Wordpress-not user friendly, didn't want to shell out a couple thousand dollars for design. Months later I had settled on Wix and began battling with headers, layouts, and categories, how to make it the perfect platform. That lovely process often ended up in late night cursing bent over a screen, aggravated with technical elements and obsessing over category subtitles, one wrong word in a sentence, why the f--- can't you change a header image? I had promised everyone including myself that doing this blog wouldn't effect work and family life. It is almost 3 years since I decided to launch.
What I finally realized was that I had the tool I always needed...the voice to tell a story. And a deep, desperate need to share it with you. I had focused so much on the surrounding elements and details that I lost sight of actually writing. There is so much noise around what we truly must to do achieve our dreams and goals, especially with technology. Time is the most precious commodity we have, so we must guard the sacred and be gatekeepers of the mind. I know I'll look back on this first post and see things I'd like to change, to have said. The most important thing was to take the first step and publish, imperfect though it may be. To drown out the doubts, the sounds around me. To listen to the whisper.