September 21st, 2007

It’s amazing how devastation in one’s personal life shapes what they write and the way they write. Orwell, Hemingway, and Melville…. I would not presume to put my own work in the same category of these literary giants, but I can identify with how suffering and tragedy influences the work. My beloved brother is sitting in a federal prison right now because I asked him to plead guilty for a crime he did not commit. Due largely to a corrupt federal system that misuses the Patriot Act, investigating officers who were and still are, romantically involved with the witnesses in the case, supplying them funds and special services, coupled with how easy it is for a disgruntled teenagers to falsely accuse fine individuals of the most vile acts and make it stick with no evidence, I believe I had to ask my brother to take a plea. It’s my fault he is where he is. I couldn’t risk losing him for life. Every day when I sit down to write I see his aged, sad face. I hear my mother weeping, longing for her son. Every t I cross, every i I dot holds the pain I feel over this unjust event. I ache for justice and cause the characters I write about to ache for the same ideal. I pray daily for all bitterness to be removed from my heart. Man can do nothing, but yield to God in all things. I hold onto and believe completely in the irrefutable truth sent forth from the heavens above, God’s vengeance is assured.