We are our art.
We are our writings.
To know what we create, is to know us.
Our beings grow, and thrive through our art forms.
We can shout into a hurricane, and no one will hear our words.
To share with the world requires the ability to promote.
To give of our hearts, we need to be seen.
To open our souls, we need to be heard.
To be understood, we must be read.
I am leaving the bulk of social media writing and author groups. The heavy handed, dictatorial, soul-sucking, authoritarian, autocratic administrators have shown a lack of understanding in what it is to create, to bring forth life on a blank sheet of paper or canvas. The heavy-handed seek to subjugate, to bend others to their will — in other words, to bully into submission any efforts outside of their elitist, all-knowing “guidelines.” It took some time of reflection to understand what drives the wannabe lawgivers. Art is not what they seek — control of others is their goal and drive and need. To garner self-worth — they need to have, no matter how false and obvious the pretense, an unearned sense of superiority.
I have one message — go to hell.
“Who the hell am I?”
I am an independent, self-published teller of tales, an author, as of yet, scarcely any renown. However, as a storyteller, I know who I am, and with that persona, I am both confident and comfortable.
I invite you to please visit my website,
and/or Amazon Author Pages
if you are so inclined please purchase a copy and leave a review.
I write of the damaged and broken, because that is the norm. For each person who overcomes their demons, there are hundreds, if not thousands, who do not.
It is their stories I tell.