My Father is Michael.
The first boy is Michael too.
It is a name I say often.
You need to hear them.
You have awakened something in me that has been dead for years, but I know how to push it back from where it came. I want the same for you.
Every single day is a writing adventure. Our lives give us what we need to fuel fires and share what we do here. The land of the living wants you, needs you. Your broken heart will mend. Your tired mind will gain strength. You will be renewed, but you must believe you can.
I am urging you to do so. Fame, fortune, stardom all has its sour side. “More money, more problems.”
I’d like to say, “More fame, more insanity.” Let’s get this out of the way, write for you. Write what you need to write, but for you, no one else. When you start writing for others, a void will enter and never be fulfilled. I believe that this is what happened. Get back to the place where you’re writing for you. You want to get better, that happens with practice, prayer, and time. 27, nearly ten years younger than I and I recall it being a struggling age for me as well. If I want to be open and honest here, which I can be, much of my twenties was that way.
Push through. Break through that wall. Great things are waiting. But there are tasks at hand, first.
Hear us. I want you to salve the pain as best as you can, but I need you to speak to someone diligent enough to make you a priority outside of this platform. You need that. It is echoing all over this piece and I feel it must take place because I care and want to know you are well, in time.
You are raging waters, Mike. You HAVE grown, in 4 months, you have grown. Writing doesn’t just manifest itself into the becoming. You have to work at it a bit. If you’re blocked, let it settle. Give it room to stretch out, it will leave you be one day soon. And then, the floodgates will open. And when they do, no one and I mean no one, will be able to halt the flood.
Not a dam in sight.
Not an ark.
Please. Take. Care. Of. You. Please.