I’ve been, happily, calling myself an “aspiring author” for a long time. Saying it is my way of reminding myself that I’m still working towards my goal without actually having been there. I know I’m also a writer. After all, I’m doing it right now. But the term “author” so often carries with it that feeling like you’ve actually accomplished something and only arrogant jerks try to use it without having done so. Even some published authors have never actually referred to themselves as authors in public, it would be a “douche” move.

So I call myself an aspiring author, which is akin to saying I’m a daydreamer with a keyboard. Sometimes, that thought haunts me.

“Oh god no,” you say about now, “not another writer complaining about how hard their life is!”

Nope, not complaining. I’m sure I could and no one would notice, but I’m instead going to discuss what form this “haunting” takes! What form is that you ask? Tornadoes!

Continue reading But I’ve never been to Kansas →