When I think of being fulfilled, it is always the same thought. The thought that I have had since I was in 5th grade. I want to have something I have created, using my imagination and creativity, be able to provide a livable wage for me and my family.
Sure, everyone wishes for their talents to make them a millionaire. And of course, that would be wonderful. However, to accomplish my goal of reaching fulfillment in my life, I would be able to feel the contentment knowing I’ve finally reached my lifetime goal with a livable wage.
Using my creativity and imagination is everything to me. It is when I am at my happiest. It’s a mixture of exhilaration, anxiety, and joy that, to me, feels like sinking deep into a cozy bed with the blankets cradling and swaddle you as you lower into a blissful state of comfort. Its where I belong.
I was wise to movie magic at an early age. I loved the chance to go to the movies and become pulled into the stories as I watched. My fascination grew into not just acting and getting to play different characters but also how it was all created to make the movie. I spent many an hour drawing gadget cars, like James Bond had. I had a story for everyone I drew.
I played with my action figures and came up with elaborate stories and adventures for my little heroes live in. As I got older, the stories became more detailed. I remember on many occasions asking my mom not to disturb my sets, as I called them, because I hadn’t finished playing out the different scenes of my stories.
I then got my first taste of acting in the 5th grade and I was hooked ever since. I went on to be in drama clubs, did some community theater work, and got paid a few dollars, but I was forced to give it up. The need for money was too great for me and I had to find paying work.
While searching for employment, I got my acting fix from being a member of a medieval reenactment group. My imagination would run wild with the backstories of my persona’s past. I went so far as to telling a few dramatic tales at different meetings and gatherings. Some stories created on a spur of the moment from nothing. But as I grew up, I got more responsibilities, which meant I needed a better paying job.
That led me to working in the radio industry. I had found a new home in broadcasting, and I loved it. It was just like acting without being on stage in front of an audience. Over the 22 years I was in broadcasting, I learned most aspects of the business. But sadly, I never got the chance to really show off my talents. Even when I did get a chance, it wasn’t for any length of time. I was always pushed into positions to work behind the scenes. I reached my early 40’s and radio was dying for lack of conforming to the technologies that were passing them by. I looked back on my career and was tired of being shuffled from one station to the next. I was exhausted form having to move every couple of years. So, I left radio for good, but found myself without an outlet for my imagination and creativity.
It wasn’t until an exciting night of playing a fantasy roll playing game, one of the few chances I had to flex my creative muscle, that I had my stunning realization. My stories! They have been the constant behind it all throughout my entire life. If I wrote down just half of the stories and flushed out some of the ideas I’ve collected in my mind over the years, I bet there was a book in there somewhere.
So, there I was, 46 years old, working a job just so I have money to keep my cell phone working and my car in working order, and I began to write. I wrote down every thought and idea I had, and I started developing stories. Characters were examined and given their own stories so vast they sound as if I were talking about living human beings. That led me to giving the characters a world in which to live and function. And now, as I am 50 years old, I turned all of that into the creation of an entire fantasy world with its own languages, religious belief pantheons, and new races of creatures. A world filled with beings of all kinds and they all have stories of their own. And letting my imagination flex a bit more, I created a fictitious western themed world and characters that inhabit it.
Writing has always been with me. From that daydreaming kid in elementary school, to today. A 50-year-old dreamer trying to conquer my fears and keep writing my stories so that one day, before it’s too late, finally get that chance to accomplish my goal.
I realize ton of people want to be writers. The website is founded on that exact idea, giving those who wish to write, a chance to write. To be honest, because of my age and my lack of financial readiness for any kind of retirement, I fell writing is my last attempt in life to accomplish my goal. However, after spending countless hours, sometimes to the early hours of the morning writing and researching to build this world, it’s no longer about making the livable wage or the sense of finally accomplishment. My motivation is to do all I can to get these stories published and out to the world.
Victor Hugo once said, “A writer is a world trapped in a person.” I would add to that by saying when a writer creates a world, they create a living entity. To have it published, is releasing it to the public for them to provide its heart. You see, the public decides if a world lives or dies. If they give it a heart, the story will survive for a millennia after the writer is gone. It will continue to thrive and grow.
And that is why I believe people should support my passion. Because I’m counting on them to give my world its heart.
About the Creator
EJ Arundel
A storyteller, world creator, poet, and aspiring bestselling author. When I'm not writing, I'm usually thinking about writing and creating new stories. However, I also enjoy movies, traveling, and supporting my LEGO addiction.
Keep reading
More stories from EJ Arundel and writers in Humans and other communities.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis4 days ago in Humans
Patience is power:The legacy of the watchmaker.
In the heart of a bustling city, surrounded by the incessant hum of life, lived an old watchmaker named Elias. His shop, nestled between a bakery and a bookshop, was a relic of a bygone era. The sign above his door, painted in faded gold letters, read "Elias's Timepieces."Elias was renowned for his craft, not just for his meticulous repairs but for the clocks and watches he created. Each piece was a testament to his patience and precision. He often said, "Patience is power," a phrase he had learned from his grandfather, who had been a watchmaker before him. To Elias, these words were not just a motto but a way of life.One rainy afternoon, as Elias sat hunched over his workbench, adjusting the tiny gears of a grandfather clock, the doorbell chimed. He looked up to see a young man, no older than twenty, dripping water on the wooden floor. The young man held a pocket watch in his hand, its chain dangling loosely."Can I help you?" Elias asked, peering over his spectacles."My name is Thomas," the young man began. "This watch belonged to my father. It's been broken for years. I was hoping you could fix it."Elias took the watch from Thomas's hand and examined it. The casing was tarnished, and the hands were frozen at twelve. He opened the back and saw that the intricate mechanisms were caked with dust and rust. It was a challenge, but one Elias accepted without hesitation."This will take time," Elias said. "Patience is power, young man. Come back in a week."Thomas nodded, though his eyes betrayed his doubt. He left the shop, the bell jingling softly behind him.Elias set to work. Each evening, after the day's customers had left, he labored over the watch. He carefully cleaned each gear, replaced worn parts, and meticulously reassembled the delicate mechanism. The work required a steady hand and a calm mind. Elias found a strange solace in the task, losing himself in the rhythmic ticking of the clocks surrounding him.As the days passed, Thomas returned to the shop, watching Elias work, asking questions about the process. Elias answered each question patiently, teaching Thomas about the delicate balance of a watch's components, the importance of each tiny part working in harmony with the others.Thomas was fascinated. He began to understand why Elias valued patience so highly. The old man's dedication to his craft, his ability to lose himself in the minutiae, and his unwavering calm were qualities Thomas admired and aspired to.On the seventh day, Elias called Thomas into the workshop. The pocket watch lay on the workbench, gleaming as if it were new. Elias handed it to Thomas, who held it with a mixture of reverence and excitement. He wound the watch and listened as it began to tick, the sound steady and strong."It works," Thomas whispered, a smile spreading across his face."Indeed it does," Elias replied. "Remember, patience is power. With patience, you can achieve things others might think impossible."Thomas thanked Elias and left the shop, the watch safely tucked in his pocket. As he walked home, he thought about the lessons he had learned. He realized that his father's watch was more than just a timepiece; it was a symbol of the values his father had tried to impart, values that Elias had helped him understand more deeply.Years passed, and Thomas found himself returning to Elias's shop often, not just for repairs but for the wisdom the old watchmaker imparted. He learned the art of watchmaking, working alongside Elias, absorbing the skills and the mindset required for such a meticulous craft.When Elias grew too old to continue, he passed the shop on to Thomas. The young man, now older and wiser, continued the tradition, always remembering the lessons of patience and dedication he had learned. He placed a new sign above the door, in fresh gold letters: "Thomas's Timepieces." Below it, in smaller letters, he added, "Patience is Power."Thomas ran the shop with the same care and precision Elias had shown. He taught his own apprentices, sharing the wisdom that had been passed down to him. The shop thrived, a testament to the enduring power of patience and the legacy of a humble watchmaker who had understood that true power lies not in haste, but in the quiet strength of persistence.
By Eric anexis 3 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.