Alright, so I'm going to go ahead and admit something truly horrible. Are you ready for it? I haven't written anything non-school related since my sophomore year in high school 9 years ago. I know, I know! I can hear your collective gasp all the way over here in my living room. Now to redeem myself, I'll tell you how much of a revelation the last two weeks have been for me. For years, I've been playing with many different ideas for stories; what-if situations involving zombies, nuclear attacks, being spirited away to Narnia-esque places, superpowers, escapes from planetary slave mines, you name it. Some of these ideas coalesced into an idea, a "what if" that I would think of daily at my place of employment. These thoughts kept me sane; kept me from walking out the front doors with two big middle fingers and a "F*$& YOU!" or raging on my hopeless, narrow-minded, husk of a human being co-workers. It's strange how terrifying a blank page can be. A few weeks ago, I sat down at my computer with purpose. I felt I finally had a thorough enough grasp on what I knew would eventually be an epic mysterious adventure that would bring its readers on a fabulous ride that would, hopefully, challenge the way they saw their world. But that damned blank page. It sat there, mocking me to fill its emptiness with something great. I balked, of course, and then spent the whole next day kicking myself for scurrying back to the safety of my Farmville and Whose Line Is It Anyways? marathon. That night, I came home from work and faced that blank page again. I had read somewhere that one should just start writing with no rewriting and no re-reading. Just write and not look back until you finished telling your story. And so I began. It has been two weeks since I started. I've created character bios for my MC's, a general outline of all three novels of my trilogy, and have the first book fully summarized. Tomorrow, I am starting on my 4th chapter. I feel like I've stepped up to that mountain top and started screaming, and I can't stop. The words can't escape my fingertips and my mind fast enough to be satisfying. It is a wonderful/horrible feeling that I can't wait to experience every morning when I wake up. My loved ones are getting sick of hearing me talk about it. My co-workers don't fear me quite as much. Unfortunately, wanting to walk out the door of my workplace hasn't changed, but now I want to leave for different reasons. Not just to escape, but to write. Writing has saved me from the last 9 years of my life. I wasn't born to be a 9 to 5-er. My destiny is to write!