I will never, ever forget that day. Ever.
I’d spent a lifetime wanting to become a published writer. There were many, many unfinished chapters in my desk drawer. And book outlines. And series ideas. And random brainstorming notes. A lifetime of thoughts that, one way or another, boiled down to these IDEAS in my head: of a fantastic world with larger-than-life principalities. Of two men closer than brothers. Of a lost civilization.
Life got in the way. I moved around A LOT. If I was one of those old-school Family Circle comics, where you tracked all the shit the kid got up to by a dotted line around his neighborhood, my path across the USA would look like this: born in central Massachusetts, summers in New Hampshire and Cape Cod, school in Maine, moved to Boston, then moved to Denver, then moved back to Boston, then moved to Missoula, Montana. Five years there led to five years in Spokane, Washington. Then finally the last big move: to North Carolina, to be close to my relocated parents and sister.
The day came when there were no more excuses: just a blank screen. And I took all the ideas in my head, isolated the best of them, and created the following two-page world-building description.
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