I've always believed that, in life, there are no accidents. Whether good or bad, even the truly aweful things we are dealt in life become part of who we are. They make us stronger, giving us the perspective we need to appreciate what we have,they restore our humanity and show us that, in spite of what we think when were in the midst of our grief, the world around us isn't a completely hopeless place.
Those close to me know all too well that the last few years have certainly challenged my personal belief in the goodness of the world around me. I still have moments when my mind goes back to the rage I felt at the string of injustices that fell upon my family and I till I was certain I would break. But, now, I have the strength to push back, to cast away the the need for vengeance and trust that the universe will take care of itself -- though maybe not as swiftly as I might like. I refuse to waste any more energy waiting for justice. That negativity no longer serves me, and if Im am honest with myself, it never did except to become catalyst to something altogether unexpected. This is the ultimate example of making lemons into lemonade.
Injustice. Vengeance. Belief. Trust. Though I didn't see it at the time, it is now, in hindsight, that I know without a doubt that those themes wove thmselves into my writing as a form of therapy that even Freud himself would be impressed with.
In this quote, he said: "Words have a magical power that can bring either the greatest joy or the deepest despair... Words are capable of arousing the strongest enotions and control all of man's actions."
In my writing, I found a voice for those emotions, bringing them to life within the characters that could do the things I never could;  by finding redemption, and in the end, seeing that justice is served even if only on the page. Sadly, in the real world, justice is a false precept --ultimately unattainable and unrealistic within our current culture. But I've made peace with that... for now.
Throughout this journey, there have been friends, both old and new, that have amazed me in their unwavering enthusiasm and support of what is important to me. Those are the people who inspire me every day to stay the course and live the best life I can.
In the last few months, I have had the pleasure and privilage of joining a group of writers that share my passion for the craft. They assure me that the voices in my head that distract me with their chatter and keep me up at night don't mean I'm crazy or delusional, becuase they hear them too. I have learned that they are just  part of the magic of writing fiction and that in listening to their story, I have discovered a part of myself that I never knew existed. For all of my friends -- including Adrian and Gwinn -- I am grateful.