​Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been a fan of mythology. The only thing is that myths can be hard to digest because of their age, or they can be dry and tedious because of poor translation or such. That is why I found Neil Gaiman’s “Norse Mythology” a breath of fresh air. 

​This book tells these myths the way they were intended to be told—not by a scholar or such, but instead by a storyteller! Gaiman does a fantastic job breathing life into these ancient tales, bringing their lush world and rich characters to life. As a fan of both mythology and Neil Gaiman, this book was a match made in heaven! I would definitely recommend it to anyone who loves myths or even fantasy in general.

​My first serious project took place from 2016 to 2018. This project, a manga version of what would later become my Angelica/Demonica webnovel, would ultimately fail and lead me to pursuing a career in writing prose.
The project failed, yes, but it was an experience that I duly needed to truly begin to understand the wild, mercurial beast that is a story—and thusly, understand the concept of fantasy.
“Fantasy” is an odd word for the genre, given that the proper definition of the word aptly applies to all fiction. But I speak of the term in the common disambiguation that one would consider when they think of it in terms of fiction.
That, in turn, refers to a genre that often has a unique world (or an unnaturally modified version of our world), magical components, and possibly (and usually in some form or another) mythical characteristics.

​This is a short list and is in no way comprehensive nor does it give justice to the vast area of themes and elements that the genre encompasses. My point in this list is to gravitate the mind to the idea that fantasy is the greatest creative form available to the writer.
Given its creative breadth, the beast of fantasy holds a unique power, akin to that of literary fiction, yet more covert and easier to swallow. That is, what gives the fantasy genre its power is not its ability to exit or warp reality; it is instead its ability to mimic it.
You might say: “Wait! You just defined fantasy as unnatural or far from reality!”
This is true. But it is that very element that allows the power of fantasy to work.
In this, short and simple, fantasy allows the reader to approach the self and the world in ways that they might not in another genre. When we follow a hero or heroine, we meld with them. This is a key component of fiction in general, but more so with fantasy. Given the idea that the reader wants to escape, they are drawn into the problems of the illusory world in the book. And, in turn, they see themselves in the characters. This may happen subconsciously, but it works as a mirror.
Within the character’s struggles, we see our own; within the character’s world, we approach our own.
Fantasy is the jagged black mirror, its truth only available in the light of suspended belief. Its truth is not the truth of the tale, but the truth of the one reading the words. The reader follows the character, but they’re really following their hearts.

I write all the time, typically to a rigid schedule with personal deadlines to which I impose upon myself as a tyrant proposes some oppressive edict. To be honest, writing is such a crucial and essential part of my daily life that I can’t imagine life without it. I often jokingly say that writing (and art proper) is a “most beautiful burden.” This is irony, of course, because if I didn’t adhere to the making up and writing down of the stories and characters that plague my mind, I would be a rather miserable fellow.

But, despite my ascetic and monk-like attitude toward writing—despite the fact that I have written a novel, several short stories, and even won awards, I still experience something that seems to pervade the mind of every author.

Impostor syndrome.

​Everyone, no matter how successful or obscure, experiences it. It’s impossible not to. You write and write, only to feel that it’s not good enough and that you aren’t a “real writer.”

Writing is in every form a drug, a chasing of a dragon to a point that does not exist. Writing is a freedom bound in chains; it is a passionate romance with a fickle muse who only speaks to you when she feels inclined.

But we have all experienced this discouragement. Anyone who writes can definitely tell you that the occupation is not as romantic as it seems to those non-writers who find the idea of making things up and writing them down foreign and exotic.

But I have realized that, despite the discouragement, it’s a waste of time to feel this way. There’s no benefit in doubting yourself. I’ve written a novel! That alone makes me a writer—no matter what my brain tells me. And even if you haven’t written a novel, you still write, and that’s good enough. The writer writes. That is all there is to it.

We’ll get there soon, slow and steady wins the race.

Impostor Syndrome, I find, comes when I look at others and what they’re doing. I think “they write more than me” or “they get more book sales...”

What a waste of time!

What good does that do for you? Even if those things are true, they have nothing to do with you. All you can do is move forward. Move forward and cut your path.

To end, this reminds me of a quick story. When I was in high school, I was told relatively late in the year that I needed a quote to put under my picture for the yearly book of school staff and students.

As I said, it was late in the year, and I eventually and happily submitted a quote.

But the quote was too late, and I was given a random one instead of my choice. It was:

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

So do just that. Go forth as the only thing you can be. Go forward as yourself.