Here it is. My first official blog post for this website. It's a truly momentous occasion, despite the fact that there are in all likelihood hundreds of first blog posts being written simultaneously across the globe. Anyway, I'd first like to take the time to thank you for paying me a visit. We're all busy people, and it's nice to know that you're willing to take some time out of your day to hear what I have to say. Just to warn you, most of what I have to say is fairly unimportant and chock full of half hearted attempts at self conscious humor. See? Just like that.
To start off with, you may be interested to know what drove me to write a book of riddles. My honest response to such a question would be something about trying to impress a pretty girl I know, but I'll give you the heart warming and inspirational story instead. It all began years ago when I first read The Hobbit. (Yes, I'm a Tolkien fan. Judge me all you want, but I'll just find some elvish word in the index of The Silmarillion to insult you with if you think it's funny to say I'm obsessed.) Obviously, my favorite chapter was the one in which Gollum engages Bilbo in the famous riddle battle. I'll admit right off the bat that I gave up before solving any of the riddles, but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them. In fact, I enjoyed them to such a degree that I reread each one several times. My fourth-grade self then realized what fun it would be to test my friends with the riddles, and then act as if they were easy and I had guessed the answers right away. My peers were amazed, and I greatly enjoyed basking in their admiration of my wit. Years later, despite the fact that I had made new friends, things remained mostly the same. We had all read The Hobbit, and by now The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion as well. We found endless fascination in going over the details of the plots and testing each other in trivia. Yet one day, after a particularly heated discussion over whether or not Balrogs qualify as Maiar, the conversation came to a lull. Uncomfortable with the silence, I boasted that I could probably craft riddles similar to those of Tolkien if I put my mind to it. Needless to say, the rest of the day was filled with taunts and incredulity due to my clearly over-inflated ego. Rather than bow my head in defeat, I decided to show them all how wrong they were. I went home that night and wrote my first riddle. As simplistic and rudimentary as it was, I was still proud of it because it rhymed and actually led readers to the correct answer. From that moment, I was hooked. My style gradually became more refined, and my clues more subtle. When I chose to share them I was always pleasantly surprised by the exasperation they would cause. Eventually, I set myself a goal: once I had written fifty, I could try and make them into a full fledged book. I am proud to say that earlier this year I reached that goal. In my naiveté, I thought that from there it would be smooth sailing. Type up the riddles in word, slap my name on the front, and presto, my book would fly off of the shelves like magic. As many of you likely know, I was sorely mistaken. While typing my first draft I noticed mistakes and room for improvement at every turn. The same can be said for my second, third, fourth, and fifth drafts. Finally, after endless counting of syllables and struggling for rhyming words, I had reached a level of completion that I was proud of. Then began the formatting. Oh, how I hate formatting. Formatting is not writing. Formatting is screaming at a computer that refuses to place page numbers where I want them. Formatting is nearly crying when that same computer blinks off for no apparent reason hours after I had last saved. Formatting is endlessly googling how to do this, that, or something else. In short, formatting is hell. I'm not even going to begin talking about my search for which publishing platform would best fit my needs. (How can they all possibly claim to offer the best of everything? I'll never understand marketing logic.) I even broke out a straight edge and paint set for the creation of my cover artwork, which I'm so proud of I plastered pictures of it all over my website. Eventually, everything was ready. I hit the publish button and haven't regretted it for a single moment. Now I'm just waiting for someone to actually buy the thing... Yes, I'm talking to you. Don't try and ignore me. Picture me crying in the cold rain and listening to moody alternative rock the next time you spend five dollars on popcorn at the movie theater instead of my super cool book. |
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