The story's burning or what it means to be a writer

I don't think you can become a writer. You can learn some writing tricks. You can start writing bad stories and progress to the better ones. You can go on that journey where you discover yourself through words. Hell, you can even take classes. Whatever. But you are born a writer, the same way you are born Lebanese. Or black. Or with a couple of feet size 6. You don't choose who you are. The stories choose you. Here's how it feels: 

That's right, ladies and gentlemen. The story is wriggling inside my head, like a child about to be born. It bothers me before I go to sleep. Some people are deprived of the latter due to money worries, political situation or work-related stress. While I am not jealous and perfectly aware of all the above, I have my own problems. Like I cried three nights in a row thinking about a funeral of one of my main characters. It still gets me going, because I love John White...

I am growing tired. My eyes are tired. My job means spending long hours in front of the computer screen, and then I just don't stop, because there is a scene in my head and it needs to be dressed in letters.

And why do I do it? It's not like it's a promise I made to anyone or a job prospect; it doesn't bring any profits. None of these things matter, though. If I were on the deserted planet, in some strange, apocalyptic world with the only fellow inhabitants being crocodiles, I would still write it all down. With my feet up and away from the river banks.

Is writing your life? Or are you just cliché?

You know how people say that writing is their life? It is true and I can relate. But it has become a cliché, I feel. Even though you do actually spend your entire time in a dream world. Normal people go out there, conclude business, have children, drink, socialise... Not you. But, at the end of the day, it all comes down to the fact that you're actually having a blast. Therefore, I come out with another revolutionary statement: writing is fun (it's the bloody proofreading that gets frustrating...)

That's how fun it gets...

I think these days it sort of became a glorified profession. You write a book, you publish it, you want to promote it and make money. And tell all friends you haven't got (because you're too busy writing) that you are, in fact, a writer.

I do it. A lot. I mean, I wrote, like, six books in six months, believe it or not. But it's still a hobby. Sure, I want to promote it and, above all, I want to you to meet my current hero, Qwerty Seymore, more than anything. But will you pay for it? Will you even give a damn, at this stage? Doubtful.

Qwerty Seymore by Gino

To me, it's more like introducing a friend to other friends. You see, whoever I invent, they are like real people to me. Like I am taking a long peek at them through a keyhole in the door to another universe. Oh gosh, I've just realised I'm kind of a stalker...

Rewind. It's a hobby. If it ever turns into a profitable business, fantastic. But right now I just feel the need to do it and that's that. I think about it in terms of Jeremy Wade. That's the guy who runs the show called "River Monsters". I mean, the man actually got us interested in fishing. He's done it for 20 years and finally he and his rod (his fishing rod...) are entertaining us on TV. By the way, has anyone noticed he's only ever got one shirt? Not that he's less sexy because of it...

Jeremy Wade, the host of the "River Monsters" show. And a tiger fish he caught. Ladies, that's the man who can provide!

Where was I? Right, hobby. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you really love doing something, just keep doing it, until everybody else catches up. And have fun.

Introducing Qwerty Seymore

Qwerty Sean Seymore came to this world some time around 2004. He was born 12, almost 13, as an orphan (it was one of those special, miracle births only authors will understand...), raised by his uncle Matt in a small village of Corfe Castle, England. He's rather slim, with dark hair and big eyebrows, often knitted into a dangerous "V". His eyes are brown, turning black every time he's angry. His best feature? Smile. Not many people can resist its charm. 

Qwerty Seymore - by Gino

His life used to be quiet and fairly pleasant, with his only guardian always buried under a pile of poetry books. But too soon Matthew Seymore dies of cancer and then all Hell breaks loose - not only Qwerty has to move in with his aunt Adela, uncle Donald, and their nasty children, Sebastian and Dolores Gibble, but also starts hearing voices... Chased by strange enemies he knows nothing about and haunted by a small, leather-bound book Matt had left him, Qwerty discovers the truth about himself...

Donald and Adela Gibble - he's an estate agent, and she is quite horrible. By Gino

And as is the case with various truths, it hurts. Especially when a ghostly hand grabs him by the throat, and Josh Ferguson, the school bully, swears to play with Qwerty's ribs, and rearrange them with a fist.

On top of everything, thanks to his newly acquired friends, he emerges as a very talented telekinetic. This means he can move objects with his mind. Yeah, he didn't believe it, either.

Qwerty had been 13 for about eleven years, waiting to grow up, until this year. In 2015 the series of his adventures practically wrote itself. His talents developed and he was forced to fight against his enemies and himself, attempting to control his powers and not kill people on the way. He's not entirely a good boy, you know...

"Qwerty: The History" is now available on Amazon and Kindle.

My first book or stay away from the Hoola Island

Life is full of "firsts". First kiss. First time you tried beer. First time you went abroad. First time you stalled a car... All are memorable, no doubt... Although, in my case, I have no idea when I tried beer for the first time. Clearly, it didn't rock my world. But do you remember your first book? 

The cover picture of that wretched book...

I do. Its title was "Stay away from the Hoola Island", or something similar. It was a story of a girl named Agnes, who went on a terribly twisted journey with a Man with the Pointy Head, who then turned out to be the Moon himself. Imagine the craziest dream you've ever had and add a talking fork. It's that kind of a book.

It not only traumatised and bent me for life, but also opened the gates of my sick imagination. And once you leave the door to that dimension hanging hopelessly on one hinge, all Hell breaks loose and swooshes through this world like a cow with a jet engine in its ass through the corn fields of Iowa.

It was not the happiest start of my adventures with literature. But it was a start and I assume also an inspiration. That was perhaps why I wrote my first book at the age of 12.

It was a story of two dwarfs, Tok and Sam, who were tasked to make a trip all the way to Venus (yep, that planet in the Solar system) and destroy the Great Diamond. The giant jewel for some reason devoured other planets. It was time for the Diamond to suck the dear life out of the Earth, and hence two heroes somehow went looking for it, on their way meeting the Great Pike (yep, a fish... on Venus) and a turtle. I never actually got round to finishing it, but it was going to end with our good old Earth being saved and Tok and Sam returning safely to their village, where the eternal glory would be cast upon them.

Planet-devouring bastard... BEWARE!

Thinking back now, I am not quite certain how my life would turn out had I not read that weird, awful piece of writing. But I am convinced, deep down, that the first book your child reads somehow stays with her or him for the rest of their lives. My advice? Choose wisely, because you do not want the Man with the Pointy Head to visit them at night...