Life Finds a Way

It has taken me nearly 18 months to make peace with the fact that my brain has permanently, and irreversibly changed.

It has also taken me 18 months to realize how truly blessed I am because of the changes.

Weird. I feel blessed because of  30 strokes.

Well, I’m still around. And I have most of my physical abilities. My cognition when it comes to things like strategy, numbers and logic has been annihilated, however. And I gave up my car and driving for the time being.

Blessed. Truly.

I can no longer do the work I’ve been doing for thirty-two years. That career has been shattered. I won’t lie to you, I was in a pretty bad funk about that fact. But life finds a way.

I started writing again in rehab back in November 2015 at the insistence of one of my therapists.  I could barely walk or speak, let alone hold a pencil.

I hated her for making me write, back then. My first journal entry was three words, scrawled almost illegibly:

“Fuck this shit.”

Now? Eighteen months later? Well, let me quote Stephen King:

 “Writing is not life, but I think that sometimes it can be a way back to life.”

And so it goes.

Last Friday, I was surprised and shocked to receive an acceptance letter to Emerson College–to their MFA program in Popular Fiction writing. They also threw a massive scholarship at me, to which I am eternally grateful.

The application was a bit of a lark–and like everything else lately, I had a load of help with the admission process. My wife, who is the most exquisite human to ever walk this earth, has been at my side–always encouraging, always helping.

I received four brilliant references from wonderful authors who I both respect and admire ( Matthew Munson and Dr. Bill Kirton from my show The Word Count Podcast, my friend, instructor and mentor, Richard Thomas, and World Fantasy and Nebula award-winning author, James Morrow). I submitted samples of my published work and an essay (the story of my writing rebirth after surviving trauma).

Four days after submitting my application, I was accepted.

This has been the culmination of recovery, acceptance, and a desire to take this “new cognitive me” out for a spin.

For all those who have helped me, I am forever in your debt. Know that I will do you proud during this next adventure.

Welcome to the class of ’19, you brain-damaged old man. You are truly blessed.