Monday, May 28, 2012

Now Introducing, Author Raymond Frazee And His Jones For Writing

How I Developed a Serious Writing Jones Read, as one might say, is easy. I started that early, and still continue to this day, maybe decades later. But writing? Writing? Ah, hahahaha! Surely you jest! No, I don’t. I was one of those strange kids who thought they could—gasp!—tell stories. Here’s what happened: As I wrote once before, I started writing about 1972. I was fifteen, and I’d decided I wanted to write because—well, why not? I was smart; I was imaginative; and I was a shy, awkward, social misfit. In other words, perfect! But I had a lot of things working against. I had mild dyslexia, so I couldn’t spell for jack. I didn’t know how to type, and I had horrible handwriting. And, to top it all off, I was left-handed in a world of things for righties, so all the notebooks and the like were working against me. Not to mention there was no where near where I lived where you could find really cool, leather-bound journals, which would have at least made me look like a writer. Nope. I was stuck in the middle of a cultural wasteland, and I was but a little glimmer of light. I kept at it until I was maybe eighteen—right before I went into college, by the way. By that time my writing spirit was crushed, because my friends, rather than say things like, “Great, Ray! You’re gonna do fantastic!” used to look at me strange and say, “Oh . . . you’re going to write. Yeah, sure.” It killed me, man, let me tell you. And when I say I went off to college? Local college, aka high school with better parking. So telling the women, “I’m a writer,” wasn’t going to get my any swoons, or batty eyes, or even a date. Not that I was really writing at that time, because . . . I wasn’t. It stayed that way for a very long time, too, because I was suffering from one issue or another throughout the 80’s. I started writing again near the end of that decade, because—like it or not—I never wanted to be anything but a writer. See, that’s the thing: I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve wanted to tell stories. I’ve wanted to create characters that would make people interested to see more of them. Good or bad, I wanted to be the one who was ready to entertain others with fascinating tales. I write because I can. I write because I’ve discovered people do find my work good—some even find it great. And I write because I’ve learned how to take something I actually wasn’t very good at way back in 1972, and turn it way up until it bakes your brain with goodness. Why do I write? Because I’m a writer. And I always have been. Thank you Raymond Frazee and I encourage everyone to discover Raymond who hails from Valparaiso,Indiana. Find Raymond at:

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