A Writers Ramblings: About Urbane Chaos

It was just another hot and sultry Sunday. The soft creaking of the Brazilian hammock nearly lulled me to sleep as I idly leafed through an old copy of The Old Man and the Sea. I could almost feel myself on the small boat as the marlin pulled me across the gulf. I could feel the anticipation of pulling in such a big fish, and then the fear of being lost at sea. Hemmingway has a way of doing that.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time that I had read the book. In fact, the pages were so worn that the novel appeared centuries older than it was. All of my books looked like that. I know, it’s a disease, a debilitating and soul consuming disease.

As I sat there, sipping my Key West Song and sweating in the Florida heat, I came upon a realization; one doesn’t have to write great to be a great writer, one only has to write.

Over the next several days, with that thought in mind, I sat myself down to create a work of art that would be read for generations to come. I plugged away at an old student typewriter that my dear old mum had given me. I pounded on those keys, letting whatever thought I had roam freely across paper. Page after page became filled with flowing words and intense drama.

Then it was done.

It might have been the rum, but more likely, it was my inexperience as a writer. Indeed, after those many hours of pounding away, what I wrote was pure gibberish. Still, I had found a calling that somehow escaped me all those years previous.

To this day, that first realization has stayed with me; one doesn’t have to write great to be a great writer, one only has to write.

When I moved to Oklahoma in 2003, I found myself in a strange new land. The gulls had gone quiet, and the waves no longer crashed against the shore. Lazy days faded away like a crimson sunset into the horizon. To say the least, I wasn’t impressed. I started searching. I was looking for something to keep me in this foreign land, and as the fates would have it, I found exactly what I was looking for.

Oklahoma was not the vast wasteland full of cowboys and Indians as I had envisioned. In truth, Oklahoma is a land vivid with life and teeming with history.

From the ancient seas that stretched across the central United States to the rebirth of Main Street, Oklahoma has shown me more than I could ever have found while lying out on those sunny beaches. It is a land full of growth and opportunity, a land full of untold wealth.

My research began from a meaningless desire to control my environment. In truth, I missed the beaches, I missed the way the air smelled as the wind carried the warm salt air down the streets. I wanted something more.

At first, all I could find were the “usual” places; the swanky bars and nightclubs, the old greasy restaurants where the only server was one-toothed-Linda. I hadn’t yet seen Tulsa, and in a town where the total population was a little less than what would fit on a subway, there wasn’t much to see.

As time wore on I began to find little sparks in Oklahoma, what one may refer to as hidden gems. I started writing this information down as future places to visit. As I researched further, I began to find more of these little sparks. Soon, my little list wasn’t so little anymore. I had found a new passion to write about.

Today, I have finally found where I belong. That quiet Sunday so long ago still follows me around; one doesn’t have to write great to be a great writer, one only has to write. And so, I write. I write about the things that fascinate me, and in the process, I write about the things that others are interested in. I write about where I live and how I live. I write in order to encourage and delight. And further still, I write to write.

Everyone has a writer lurking within them; their words silently searching for escape, seeking solace in unwritten pages. Those words shape our lives. Without written language, we would be as tattered ships forever seeking port; progress would cease.

These are our words, this is who we are. In our hearts, we are adventurers and dreamers, poets and pirates. The words that we conjure forth bring life to our world.

One doesn’t have to write great to be a great writer, one only has to write.

I have been writing since I was 14, in one aspect or another. My first brush with the art came when, unknown to me, I was entered into an amateur adult writing contest. I was shocked when I was told I won second place.

While that was encouragement, I had sat the art aside in pursuit of greater things; mainly women and money. For several years, those two things became a part of my religion.

Time moved on, as it always does, and I became more of the man I am today. I learned that there are greater things in life, and have dedicated the rest of my life to helping others. I began writing again, but this time, I was writing with a purpose.

It is my belief that life should not be lived passively, but rather, one should be active in all aspects of their lives. As they say, time waits for no man.  Instead of dreaming, I believe firmly in doing - as should we all.

Time to run, got boats to build.