The Impossible Dream - I am a writer. I am that, I am!

How old were you when you knew you wanted to be a writer? 

I was 8. I just learned the alphabet. Then I read Les Misérables by Victor Hugo.
That moment I knew what I would like to be when I grow up.

But I was born and raised a farmer under a very oppressive communist regime.
So I worked the land, feed the animals and read every book the librarian agreed to lend me.

Russian Literature was my favourite. I really don't know why. I was just 10 when I read War and Peace. 

For more than 20 years I devoured from a minimum of 3 to a maximum of 7 books a week.
That because my reading skills developed incredibly day by day, book by book.

Alexandre Dumas

Charles Dickens

Emily Brontë

Émile Zola

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Gustave Flaubert

Honoré de Balzac

Jane Austen

Jules Verne

Lev Tolstoy

Thomas Hardy

Victor Hugo

These are just a few of the authors that made me cry, cringe, love, hope... for many, many years.

Every night I fell asleep dreaming of freedom and opportunities.
But I never dared to dream that I could actually be a writer myself.
In a world of censures, indigence and exploitation, I was only led to believe that my destiny is sealed. I was doomed to be a farmer and raise ten children. 
As my mother did. My mother who was an artist of the highest class. She didn't even think she could be more.

We were not allowed to have dreams. Dreams don't bring food to the table. 
I don't remember having any dream in my entire life.

Children always dream of being something or someone... I was only living in the moment. I was going to school, helping my parents with the farm, or helping my mother with her art. The only time I could read, was the night. 

We were practical and realistic. I was going to get married, have children and never leave the village.

Then Ceausescu was killed... on Christmas Day. It was 1989. The fall of communism. The end. 

• Everything went to dust. 
• There were no more jobs, no more censures, no more clapping on command. 
• There were oranges, and chocolate, and naked people having sex on TV in daylight. 
• The country went into chaos. We were adrift. The only reality we knew was gone. 
• We were suddenly free. But... we had no idea that we were living in a cage. We didn't know that the world was a completely different place than the one we knew. And we got so scared... so, so, so scared. 

Have you ever seen a baby bear born in captivity and sent into the savage world after a few years? 

They don't know how to take care of themselves. 

That's what happened to us. We were afraid to get out of the cage. The freedom was the unknown.

Then I left. But this is a different story. 

In 2015, when turning forty (40), I finally dared to think that I should be what I always craved to be. 

I've always written: on notebooks, on random sheets of paper, on the computer. 

I wrote entire books that got lost, God knows where. Nobody read them. 

I knew it was time. In fact, I had no more time. So I did it. I started writing and I self-published. 

Have I been successful? 

Not at all. But I will be. I am working night and day on my dream. I invest every second of my time and every dime I earn from my day job in pursuing this impossible dream. 

Now I am a registered author.
Dreams do Come True if You Never Give up. I am great because I am putting in the time. The whole time I've got and everything else. 

I dream, breathe, and create stories. From nothing. This is my destiny. 

But I am nothing without You, The Reader. The soulful human who spreads the love.

Read my books by clicking on this link. 

Follow me on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter and so on. 

And if you like my books, why not leaving a review? 

If you don't like them,  respect my work and my incredible sacrifice. 

Follow the Golden Rule. "If you don't have anything to say, don't say anything at all."

Support me, soulful human. 

I need you. 

Please see me for who I really am.

I don't write for vanity. I write for You.

Thank you, dearest brother.