Two Hundred. For Real This Time.

Well, here we are at number two-hundred.

 

(Are you sure this time?)

 

Be quiet, you. Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't quite sure what to do for this, the bi-centennial post, so I went back over the weekend and perused the previous one hundred and ninety-ni… ok eight posts I'd previously published. Of course that resulted in the discovery of the error in my mathiness and yesterday's true post number 199. Beyond that however, I wanted to see how this blog has progressed, what types of things I've written, and how people have reacted. I have to say, I am truly humbled.

 

Since I've started this nonsense I've shared a great deal about me personally, far more than I would have expected looking back. I tell people that I am an open book, buy how many of us say that and truly mean it? I suspected that I did not, but it made me feel better to think that I was the open volume I claimed to be. In reading some of my past posts, though, I've come to determine that I have been fairly true to my word – In many instances you've gotten good glimpses into my persona and have experienced my quirks, my sarcasm, my cynicism, my elation, and my depression. Through other posts you've gotten not just a glimpse, but an immersion experience into my head and my heart. Frankly I'm a little surprised at how much I've shared here on these pages. While I joke that doing so is cheaper than therapy I can tell you with no uncertainty…. That it is indeed cheaper than therapy. I'm sure you've learned a lot about me that perhaps you didn’t need to know. You've put up with my shenanniganery –

 

(Like made up words?)

 

Yes, among other things. You've endured my rambling, my bemusement, my author-experimentation, and my adolescent fears and animosities.

 

(Clowns, Keanu Reeves, the new Jeep Cherokee, something about candy corn….)

 

Precisely. Here you've been exposed to short stories, satire, poems, songs, sadness and joy, sarcasm and sincerity. You've been loyal readers, and you've provided me the inspiration to create the imaginary Parenthetical Heckler to serve as your voice, as I imagine your thoughts while you read my words.

 

(Wait, I'm not real???)

 

Oh you're real, all right. Without you I wouldn't do this. Without you I couldn't do this. You are precisely what makes this all worthwhile. Granted, I would write anyway. It's my release. Allowing the words to flee from my fingertips onto these pages is my freedom. It is what allows my mind to settle, my heartbeat to slow, and my breath to steady. I cannot, and will not, stop writing. And then something astoundingly magical happens: You. You happen to click on a link and come to visit. You wander, stay a while, or simply pass by. But you come. And that is pretty fucking cool.

 

(Holy crap, you actually swore! Typed out the whole word and everything!)

 

I totally did. For whatever reason I usually self-censor just enough to get the point across without actually cursing. In that instance up there? It was warranted, because the fact that you choose to read these words, and keep coming back for more, really is pretty fucking cool. See? I did it again. That's how strongly I feel about the topic. That's how strongly I feel about you, and how much I appreciate the support you've given me to continue to fill these pages with anything and everything that spews out of mind.

 

(That is pretty fucking cool.)

 

I didn't say you could swear.

 

(I…um… sorry. *blushing*)

 

I'm just teasing. You come out of my head, remember?

 

(Touché, pussycat.)

 

I am many things; I'm a son; a grandson; a brother; an uncle; a nephew and a cousin. I am a lawyer, but really a Jeep-driving country boy trapped in a lawyer's body. I am emotional, intuitive, loyal and dedicated. I am brave but frightened. I am twice divorced yet not disenchanted. I'm strong, and weak, and smart enough to understand that dichotomy. I am forty-one years old, tattooed and bruised by the hardships I've experienced. I am also optimistic and propelled by the wonders I've encountered. I am all of these things and more, but when it all boils down….

 

I am a writer.

 

I may never have a New York Times Best Seller. I may never get another monthly royalty check from Amazon.com for my science fiction writings sufficient to even fill my gas tank, and Oprah may never choose my tomes for her Book of the Month. All or any of that would be great, certainly, but I don't need it. As long as I can write, I will always have balance.

 

At the writing of this two-hundreth post, I've published three books in the Deep Space Chronicles series and am nearly 150 pages into a fourth; I have four other completed manuscripts, including two romantic thrillers, an erotic thriller and one that could, for sure, be the basis for a Lifetime Movie of the Week. I have countless short stories, and several others in various states of completion. I write in many instances not because I want to, but because I have to. The ideas come and scream to be released.

 

The questions I'm asked most often seek to learn the source of my inspiration and how I come up with the things I scribe. The answer is always the same – I don't have the first clue. The words come, I write them down. Sometimes it is just that simple. And I thank God every single day that I was blessed with the ability to do so. I don't know who I would be without the ability to write, and my biggest fear is that someday I will lose this gift forever. Until then, though, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, for joining me on this journey. I am humbled beyond all comprehension knowing that you are here with me, reading these words, accepting them, enjoying and embracing them. In doing so you are embracing me, and my heart swells with gratitude.

 

Tw hundred times now, I've put words to these pages. Two hundred times. It's difficult to fathom, this notion that on two hundred, separate occasions I've found words to share. I sincerely hope there will be two hundred more such occasions, and two hundred more after that. Something tells me that won't be an issue. And something further tells me that if it is, there will be any number of you out there that will support, encourage and inspire me to find a way to unlock the doors of my mind and allow more words to escape.  

 

Thank you, for being a part of this, for being a part of me. You help me be the writer I am, and you help me be the man that I am in so many ways, and in the simplest of ways. I can never repay you for that gift, but I can offer you my words, and my words are me.

 

Two hundred. Well what do you know.

 

~JJ

 

 

© 2015 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.