It is hard to be raised in a home that was filled with the legal drugged depression of a mother woman that had tasted the high life of the Grand Ole Opry and Hank Williams and a high temperature physicist father that wanted to be a writer above all else and to set the vials and dials behind him. They both encouraged me to be a writer when I was young, but from different positions, but for difference reasons, neither of which led me to today. My Parents bought into their fading dreams and spent their lives seeking escape.
It is hard to resurface 50 years after the urge first struck me to emerge as a writer. I had spent over a year travelling through Europe, dragging a leather trench coat, a beret and a Smith-Corona because I knew I had a story to tell so many years ago. Then the hold button on life was pressed. During those 40 years, I finished college, raised three wonderful and different spirited children and kept a job and a home and a wife of 28 years. I returned to work, teach and ramble lost through Europe many times since the 70’s.
A few years back the air was knocked from me in the form of a killer stroke that wiped half my brain. I began to find the road back to the telling of stories. I felt a resurgence inside to share my visions.
My card is printed with:
Stuart Welch Writer, Poet, Raconteur.
Anyone who spends anytime around me know that I talk too long, write too much and see things in a different way than most around me do or can or will.
It is hard to tell a tale sometimes through my eyes, thoughts from my brain and words from my fingers. What makes complete sense to me, sometimes is even too abstract or disjointed for my wit and wisdom, whatever or whenever it finds me. I work words to tell a story. I work the sounds, the pace, the images that I create out of the words. I carefully chose my words to tell my tale. They are my paint, my keyboard and pen my brush. I am not a fan of grammar and standards,
I have completed a book and let it go this year, I have completed two screenplays that I was asked to write and I update a fiction blog whenever I have a few words to share.
I review screenplays for a Production Company. It will be interesting someday to hear my words spoken by strangers, acting out what I have visioned
Sometimes poetry comes easily; sometimes it is hard to remember my wife’s name. I advise the reader to never forget their wife’s name.
It does not lead to inspiration.