I don't write poetry very often, but when the mood hits . . .

It's been a long seven years.

A long time wondering if I was crazy to have a dream.

Many long moments of thinking I should give up.

That it wasn't worth the pain of rejection, and opening myself up to criticism.

Hours of writing till my eyes blured and my wrists hurt.

So many times others thought it was just a hobby or a fleeting fancy.

Repeated rewrites, countless revisions, hours of editing.

But I wanted it, I wanted it real bad.

I dreamt of holding my book in my hands.

My book containing the words that poured out of me.

Often resembling a bleeding headwound.

When times got tough I turned up the radio real loud.

Let the lyrics of Shinedown or Blue October soothe my soul.

Then I sat and pounded out more words.

Millions of them.

Until at some point in time it began to resemble a story.

Something magical and sweet.

Something people would stay up at night reading.

Something ready for the world to see.

A story ripped from my body and soul called Emergence.

About a bad boy that has a chance to change.

And it was good.

Just give it a chance I begged.

Not for us they said.

Over and over for years.

Still I held it out for others to see.

Until one said yes.

The story without a home for so many years now had someone who believed in it.

Just two weeks ago I made an agreement with Walnut Springs to publish Emergence. The book will be out this fall.

Stay tuned for more information and news as I recieve it.