In retrospect this probably should have been the first entry in my blog. Truth is that it simply did not occur to me that anyone would be interested in the person behind the words.
The entire reason I began this blog is that it was recommended I do so. When I first started writing I bought an e-book called 'Building Your Fanbase' (I highly recommend it for any newb writers like myself.). One of the suggestions was to start a blog.
Now I was more than a bit hesitant to do so. I considered blogs to be nothing more than online diaries (Although it should be noted that at the time I hadn't read any blogs other than Jim Butcher's, so I really had no idea what I was talking about). Also I had no clue what in the hell I would write about. I had difficulty fathoming anyone reading it in the first place (Outside of supportive friends or relatives.), and wondered if I had it in me to do interesting entries.
In the end I started the blog because of all the different ways to connect with people recommended by B.Y.F., blogging was the only one that both interested me and I thought I could do.
So as the bit at the top states, I decided to just blog about my attempt to write a book and get published. Every entry since has been just that. Whatever was on my mind at the time is what I jotted down. So far it has felt awkward, like a pair of new shoes. With a couple of exceptions the entries felt forced. Like I was trying too hard. I may have had my doubts, but if I am going to blog I want to do it right.
Up to now my blog, much like the first few chapters in my book, didn't feel like me. I didn't see/feel myself anywhere in it.
Over this last week, since I couldn't do much besides edits and research, I decided to look at other authors blogs to maybe find ways to make mine better. I ended up reading Kevin Hearne's blog from beginning to the most current entry. It was great reading for two reasons.
First, he is a fairly new author and did with his blog what I am attempting to do with mine. He has documented his experiences with getting published. What he's learned, the surprises, mistakes, and misunderstandings. I have learned more about being an author and the publishing process in the last week than I have in the last six months.
The second reason is that from the very beginning, every entry has the author all over it. Reading it feels like I am talking with him. It's so very personal. His photo contests, nerdy/geeky references, the entries about painting miniatures. All of it screamed, "I am Kevin Hearne."
Now I knew what I wanted my blog to be. I hate the idea of anyone reading this and having it come across as impersonal. I want a piece of me in every line.
In order to do that I needed to ask myself an important question.
Who am I?
See how I worked the title in there?
Now once I answered said question came the hard part. Telling you.
Like many, if not all, writers and artistic types I am a writhing bundle of neuroses. An extreme lack of self-confidence being one of the more prominent issues. Again, I really had difficulty with the idea that anyone would have the slightest interest in me or my little pet project.
In the end I just told myself I was over thinking things as usual and to just shut the hell up and do it anyway. So here goes nothing.
My name is Daniel Cortes and I'm thirty-mumblemumblemumble years old. I enjoy most all things geek (Anime, comics, sci-fi, etc, etc.). I prefer to go by my nickname 'Shakes'. And before you can ask, I was given that nickname by a co-worker many moons ago due to a tremor I have in both hands. At the time I hated nicknames, especially in relation to my tremor which I was sensitive about. My hands were always in my pockets or tucked under my arms to hide it. Having spent most of my life being picked on, bullied, and humiliated I was pretty oversensitive in general.
The moment he called me Shakes I started to get pissed and took a breath to tell him off when I had an epiphany. I could either keep getting pissy about the damn tremor or accept it and just tackle it right up front from now on. So from that day forth I introduced myself as Shakes.
Anyway back to the beginning. I was born in Dallas, TX. At the age of four my parents divorced and we moved to a town called Ewa Beach on the island of Oahu (That's in Hawaii, just FYI.).
As most kids do I took the divorce pretty hard and since reality was turning out to suck, I sought surcease from sorrow in books. The public library became my home away from home. I threw myself into world after world. Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jack McKinney, Peter Benchly (I was way to young to have read 'Jaws'.), became my friends.
I didn't start writing until late in high school. The urge was always there, but the confidence was lacking. My first forays into writing were nothing special. I had no direction and no friggin' idea what I was doing. After high school I dropped it for awhile as I got lost in the adult world of work and bills. Didn't start writing again until after leaving the military.
I had three ideas that I was attempting to turn into novels as well as a few short stories, and still had no bloody clue what I was doing.
As I have mentioned before I won't bother mentioning all my lame ass excuses, because that's all they really are is excuses, for quitting but a few years after leaving the military (I was living in Tucson, AZ at the time.) I gave up on writing.
The two primary factors were due to a major increase in depression brought on by a particularly bad relationship/break up that left me in a pit of self-pity and despair I had never before experienced. I found myself for the first time seriously considering suicide. I even slept with my gun next to my bed.
The second reason was that a friend who claimed he was going to edit what I had so far (Grammar mostly.) showed off my writing to a few people we both knew, with my permission, as long as my name was withheld.
Putting it mildly the reactions were not positive.
Now though I only worked on my stories sporadically I did take my work seriously and poured myself into them. A lot of the things I kept pent up, ended up in those works. And to hear friends (The people I hung out with at the time were not shy about taking anything they didn't like and verbally ripping it apart, then taking those pieces and shitting all over them.) who did not know whose stories they were and listening to them tear my work apart was simply too much for me at the time. Hearing it was like the world telling me, "FINISH HIM!".
So seven years ago I took my dream of being a published author and slit it's fucking throat.
Then came the fateful day I was introduced to Jim Butcher and a cool ass dude named Harry Dresden. Reading the Dresden Files stirred up the coals buried in the ashes of my dreams cremated remains. And after listening to the inspirational words of another cool dude named Kevin Smith I resurrected my dream and am now eight chapters into my first novel.
A big difference between then and now is knowledge. Thanks to Mr. Butcher and Mr. Hearne I have an idea of how to put a book together and a decent idea of what I can likely expect. I still have the depression and confidence issues but am now, finally, doing something about them.
The biggest difference is that I'm not doing this to get published. While getting published would make me nut myself, and is a goal, I am doing this for me. Regardless whether I am ever published or not I am going to continue writing. I am sick to fucking death of looking back on my life and feeling nothing but regret and shame. For never finishing what I start and being too much of a damn coward to take risks.
I'm finishing this book, and as many more as I possibly can, even if it kills me. I am going to give it my best and I hope you like it. I hope it makes you laugh, cry, and everything in between. And if not? Then fuck it.
I would rather be a failure than a coward.
The entire reason I began this blog is that it was recommended I do so. When I first started writing I bought an e-book called 'Building Your Fanbase' (I highly recommend it for any newb writers like myself.). One of the suggestions was to start a blog.
Now I was more than a bit hesitant to do so. I considered blogs to be nothing more than online diaries (Although it should be noted that at the time I hadn't read any blogs other than Jim Butcher's, so I really had no idea what I was talking about). Also I had no clue what in the hell I would write about. I had difficulty fathoming anyone reading it in the first place (Outside of supportive friends or relatives.), and wondered if I had it in me to do interesting entries.
In the end I started the blog because of all the different ways to connect with people recommended by B.Y.F., blogging was the only one that both interested me and I thought I could do.
So as the bit at the top states, I decided to just blog about my attempt to write a book and get published. Every entry since has been just that. Whatever was on my mind at the time is what I jotted down. So far it has felt awkward, like a pair of new shoes. With a couple of exceptions the entries felt forced. Like I was trying too hard. I may have had my doubts, but if I am going to blog I want to do it right.
Up to now my blog, much like the first few chapters in my book, didn't feel like me. I didn't see/feel myself anywhere in it.
Over this last week, since I couldn't do much besides edits and research, I decided to look at other authors blogs to maybe find ways to make mine better. I ended up reading Kevin Hearne's blog from beginning to the most current entry. It was great reading for two reasons.
First, he is a fairly new author and did with his blog what I am attempting to do with mine. He has documented his experiences with getting published. What he's learned, the surprises, mistakes, and misunderstandings. I have learned more about being an author and the publishing process in the last week than I have in the last six months.
The second reason is that from the very beginning, every entry has the author all over it. Reading it feels like I am talking with him. It's so very personal. His photo contests, nerdy/geeky references, the entries about painting miniatures. All of it screamed, "I am Kevin Hearne."
Now I knew what I wanted my blog to be. I hate the idea of anyone reading this and having it come across as impersonal. I want a piece of me in every line.
In order to do that I needed to ask myself an important question.
Who am I?
See how I worked the title in there?
Now once I answered said question came the hard part. Telling you.
Like many, if not all, writers and artistic types I am a writhing bundle of neuroses. An extreme lack of self-confidence being one of the more prominent issues. Again, I really had difficulty with the idea that anyone would have the slightest interest in me or my little pet project.
In the end I just told myself I was over thinking things as usual and to just shut the hell up and do it anyway. So here goes nothing.
My name is Daniel Cortes and I'm thirty-mumblemumblemumble years old. I enjoy most all things geek (Anime, comics, sci-fi, etc, etc.). I prefer to go by my nickname 'Shakes'. And before you can ask, I was given that nickname by a co-worker many moons ago due to a tremor I have in both hands. At the time I hated nicknames, especially in relation to my tremor which I was sensitive about. My hands were always in my pockets or tucked under my arms to hide it. Having spent most of my life being picked on, bullied, and humiliated I was pretty oversensitive in general.
The moment he called me Shakes I started to get pissed and took a breath to tell him off when I had an epiphany. I could either keep getting pissy about the damn tremor or accept it and just tackle it right up front from now on. So from that day forth I introduced myself as Shakes.
Anyway back to the beginning. I was born in Dallas, TX. At the age of four my parents divorced and we moved to a town called Ewa Beach on the island of Oahu (That's in Hawaii, just FYI.).
As most kids do I took the divorce pretty hard and since reality was turning out to suck, I sought surcease from sorrow in books. The public library became my home away from home. I threw myself into world after world. Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jack McKinney, Peter Benchly (I was way to young to have read 'Jaws'.), became my friends.
I didn't start writing until late in high school. The urge was always there, but the confidence was lacking. My first forays into writing were nothing special. I had no direction and no friggin' idea what I was doing. After high school I dropped it for awhile as I got lost in the adult world of work and bills. Didn't start writing again until after leaving the military.
I had three ideas that I was attempting to turn into novels as well as a few short stories, and still had no bloody clue what I was doing.
As I have mentioned before I won't bother mentioning all my lame ass excuses, because that's all they really are is excuses, for quitting but a few years after leaving the military (I was living in Tucson, AZ at the time.) I gave up on writing.
The two primary factors were due to a major increase in depression brought on by a particularly bad relationship/break up that left me in a pit of self-pity and despair I had never before experienced. I found myself for the first time seriously considering suicide. I even slept with my gun next to my bed.
The second reason was that a friend who claimed he was going to edit what I had so far (Grammar mostly.) showed off my writing to a few people we both knew, with my permission, as long as my name was withheld.
Putting it mildly the reactions were not positive.
Now though I only worked on my stories sporadically I did take my work seriously and poured myself into them. A lot of the things I kept pent up, ended up in those works. And to hear friends (The people I hung out with at the time were not shy about taking anything they didn't like and verbally ripping it apart, then taking those pieces and shitting all over them.) who did not know whose stories they were and listening to them tear my work apart was simply too much for me at the time. Hearing it was like the world telling me, "FINISH HIM!".
So seven years ago I took my dream of being a published author and slit it's fucking throat.
Then came the fateful day I was introduced to Jim Butcher and a cool ass dude named Harry Dresden. Reading the Dresden Files stirred up the coals buried in the ashes of my dreams cremated remains. And after listening to the inspirational words of another cool dude named Kevin Smith I resurrected my dream and am now eight chapters into my first novel.
A big difference between then and now is knowledge. Thanks to Mr. Butcher and Mr. Hearne I have an idea of how to put a book together and a decent idea of what I can likely expect. I still have the depression and confidence issues but am now, finally, doing something about them.
The biggest difference is that I'm not doing this to get published. While getting published would make me nut myself, and is a goal, I am doing this for me. Regardless whether I am ever published or not I am going to continue writing. I am sick to fucking death of looking back on my life and feeling nothing but regret and shame. For never finishing what I start and being too much of a damn coward to take risks.
I'm finishing this book, and as many more as I possibly can, even if it kills me. I am going to give it my best and I hope you like it. I hope it makes you laugh, cry, and everything in between. And if not? Then fuck it.
I would rather be a failure than a coward.
You can find me on Twitter @DCortes5150. I hope to hear from anyone willing to do so. Questions, comments, recipes, jokes. All are welcome.
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