"To entertain, inspire, frighten, teach, and entice as many readers as possible." - Keith Helinski
Wastin' Away Press features Keith Helinski's writings, ranging from short stories online to movie reviews over the years. Also features an assortment of Keith's interests. If you like what you see, check out Wastin' Away Press's official Facebook.
I can’t speak for all writers, because it seems you will get a different answer one way or another (or perhaps, the same answer, written differently). But for me, there is something beautiful/terrifying/sexy/inspiring about writing. If I can reach out to at least one reader, I feel like I made a real difference in this world; more of a difference than the nonsense I do at my day-job. But I would still be doing this, even if I don’t reach an audience, let alone a single reader.
I love this job! I love writing. I love jumping around from story to story. I love pushing myself and experimenting to see where I can take my writing (and imagination). I love the freedom of writing, and the ability to write whatever I want. I love learning how to perfect my craft, and improving from my last project. And I love reader’s reactions (positive or negative). I love the whole package deal!
Every single author/writer says that there is magic in writing. And truth be told, many artistes that proclaims themselves as one feels that same magic anytime they create. It’s like being on cloud nine: no one can touch you. Sure, the daggers are set at the heart once the creation is out there. But no one can touch you at the very moment you are in that mindset of piecing letters and words together to create a story. It’s an escape, an escape from the harsh reality of this gloom-and-doom world, even if you are writing a gloom-and-doom story. It’s also a lonely job, which is what I enjoy the most out of it. I am not bothered. My only regret is not having enough time to do this job.
"I saw what I had been fighting for: It was for me, a scared child, who had run away a long time ago to what I had imagined was a safer place. And hiding in this place, behind my invisible barriers, I knew what lay on the other side: Her side attacks. Her secret weapons. Her uncanny ability to find my weakest spots. But in the brief instant that I had peered over the barriers I could finally see what was really there: an old woman, a wok for her armor, a knitting needle for her sword, getting a little crabby as she waited patiently for her daughter to invite her in."
"What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction."
"I had never seen a sunset like that: a bright orange flame touching the water’s edge and then fanning out, warming the sea. When it became dark, the boats turned their yellow orbs on and bounced up and down on the dark shiny water."
"There’s a school of thought," I said, "that parents shouldn’t criticize children. They should encourage instead. You know, people rise to other people’s expectations. And when you criticize, it just means you’re expecting failure."