When I was little, I was obsessed with telling stories. So much so, in fact, that I used to wander around the schoolyard at recess, telling them out loud to myself as if I was somehow listening to an audiobook and narrating one at the same time. That should give you a sort of idea of the kind of child I was—a really f***ing weird one. Like, to the point where I would tell teachers I was talking to an imaginative friend because that felt somehow less concerning than the truth–that I was making up books on the fly and reading them aloud to the thin, cold air.
Now that I’m an adult, I’m still pretty weird, but—or so I hope – at least a little less so. You’ve been warned.
Thanks for stopping by, reader. It’s been a long journey to get to where I am now. I’d be lying if I said that journey was a pleasant one. When I first came up with the initial spark for this book series (over a late-night fireside chat with my brother about how, if we could, we would remake the Star Wars prequels), I was still in college, pursuing a double-major in history and creative writing in the mistaken belief that this would open doors for me as an author (spoiler alert: it did not). I suppose I can admit I was one of those “snowflake” millennials the media loves to hate so much. As a child, I’d been exposed to one too many motivational posters. “Follow your dreams,” they read. “Shoot for the moon. If you fail, at least you’ll land among the stars.”
I shot for the moon, and I landed in a dingy apartment in small-town Ohio spending six hours a day applying for jobs on Indeed.com and the rest in an unpaid internship in Cleveland as a Spanish-English interpreter. Not exactly the stars I’d envisioned. Job interviews were a real drag: where do I see myself in five years? Unclear, but is the sweet release of death too much to hope for? It’s got to beat Cleveland in the winter, at least (sorry, Cleveland).
Is life perfect now? Well, it is much better! I have a real job, and, just as important–I have time to write. And I finally finished Chrysathamere. Hey, it only took about 10 years! And the best part is that a lot of readers took the time to reach out and let me know they loved it. That this story, which meant so much to me, meant something to them, too. Which, of course, is what makes the whole mad pursuit of writing worth it. With the rest of my time, I enjoy hiking, camping, and exploring the beautiful landscapes of the United States with my wife and partner-in-publishing.
If you found these stories entertaining, inspiring, or at least a better way to pass the time than watching Season Eight of Game of Thrones on HBO, I’d appreciate an Amazon or Goodreads review. In all seriousness, I take my readers’ feedback seriously.
That’s all, folks. Morgan Cole out.