Posts Tagged ‘inspiration’

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This is where the magic happens, where my imagination comes to life. This is my office. I use to do my work while sitting on the floor. I would prop my back on the side of my bed, my computer monitor sat on the bedside table, and the keyboard sat in my lap. Now I have a desk, and as you can see, Shardae allowed me to have a section of the bedroom wall. Yeah, I’m doing it big now.

Do you see that computer sitting on my desktop? That’s my most prized possession. If there was a fire in my home, the computer would be the first thing I ran to save, you know, after I secured my lady and child. I remember being a kid and having my folks ask me what I wanted for Christmas. “I want a computer,” would always be my response. Then my folks would comeback with, “What else do you want?” I didn’t want anything else. Owning a computer was my greatest desire. I guess I always knew I wanted to be a writer… that and I really wanted to be able to play Solitaire whenever the mood struck me. After being denied a computer for three consecutive years, my reply to what I wanted for Christmas became, “It doesn’t matter.” Why ask me what I want if I was never going to get it? I’m 25-years-old now and my response to, what do you want for Christmas, is still, “It doesn’t matter.”

Well, when I became an adult and started making my own money, one of the first major purchases I made was to buy a computer. I didn’t start writing right away. I did a bit of poetry, but I mainly listened to music, watched DVD’s, and of course, played Solitaire. One day I pawned my computer in order to pay my car note, but I made sure I got it back, and once I had it I promised never to pawn it again. I had a feeling that my computer was going to be extremely valuable in forging my future, so I couldn’t risk losing it. I never pawned my computer again no matter how tight money got.

I wrote my first book on that computer. I was pretty proud of myself, but I didn’t receive any encouragement from those around me. I tried to get the story published, was discouraged at the result, and I postponed my dream.

Sometime later, I remember accidentally dropping my monitor and breaking it so I couldn’t use my computer. I was unhappy about that. Shardae and I had just started dating then and she got me this old-fashion, bulky monitor from her sister. Shardae has always reluctantly supported me. And by reluctantly I mean, she voiced her disagreement about my decision to be a writer, and she has never read a word I wrote, but she does stuff like find me a monitor to replace my broken one, or rid my computer of viruses when it got sick that one time. It was Shardae who inspired me to work on my second book, Agape. I finished it back in 2009, but I never got it published. It’s now due for publication this September.

I eventually got a better looking, slimmer monitor and around that time I began to write seriously. The next book I would write was called, The BoogeyMann. I wrote dozens of short stories on that computer, and four novels. When everyone else was trying to discourage me from being a writer, my computer would encourage me with a swiveling screensaver that said, Bennie L. Newsome. The computer was my personal cheerleader, voicelessly yelling my name.

My computer and I have come a long way. We have achieved quite a bit and the two of us are still working to obtain greater heights. If there was a fire in my home, the first thing I would rush to save is my computer, you know, after I secured my lady and child. I do plan on replacing my computer one day, with a more updated model. The machine is not what I’m attached to. It’s the dream that a little child had years ago. The dream to be a renown writer like his favorite author, R.L.Stine. So yeah, I’ll replace my computer with a faster, sleeker model, and create another swiveling screensaver that will read, Bennie L. Newsome. And that new computer will continue to cheer me own as I trudge onward to greatness.

I went to a funeral this past weekend, and like with any funeral I attend, this one got me thinking about my own mortality. Death didn’t stay on my mind for long because my baby boy got to acting up and I had to excuse myself from the proceedings. When I got outside, the sun was shining, flowers were in bloom, and butterflies were flitting to and fro; so I totally forgot about my dismal thoughts. Nevertheless, those thoughts forever reside in the shadowy recesses of my mind, like I’m sure it does with all of you.

The first thing that came to my mind during that funeral was: life sure is fragile. I like to think that I’ll live to a ripe old age of eight-two, but that’s not guranteed. A traffic accident can take me away tomorrow, or an illness can triumph over me ten years from now–God forbid. So if Death does have me scheduled for an early flight off this spinning rock, I think about how will others remember me. For some, a headstone and memories will be all that’s left. That’s not what I want, but I would love for my headstone to read like the image that accompanies this post–hilarious! For others, a facebook and twitter page will be the only thing that they leave to the world. That’s a sad legacy, indeed. Neither of those options are appealing to me. I prefer to be more like Bernie Mac. The man died some time ago, but to me it’s like he never left. He still makes me laugh when I see him on television; Bernie Mac is in just about every movie I like to watch. Some leave footprints in the sand, a thing that is destined to fade away, but Bernie Mac left his signature in the hearts and minds of the world. And when little one’s come of age, they’ll watch his stuff and they’ll fall in love with him too. The man is an immortal.

I’m not an actor, but I strive to do what Bernie Mac did, only I do it through my writing. I want to inspire people long after I’m gone. I want to make them think, I want to make them laugh. If I was to die tomorrow, I would want my son to still have the chance to know me and learn from me; therefore, I write to my heart’s content.

Do you mind if I tell you a story? Of course you don’t, or you wouldn’t be here. Anyway, I use to write poetry and short stories when I was a teenager. Although I had a tremendous talent for the written word, being a writer was the farthest thing from my mind. Well, a terrible tragedy separated my family (temporarily) and I left just about everything I owned behind–including my writing. One day, my youngest brother and I had come together and we were talking. While we talked, he told me how he entertained himself by reading books from the library I left behind and he also read the writing I had done. The boy was able to quote words that I had written, and that touched me. To know that I had inspired someone through my writing was an awesome feeling, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to be a writer.

When I die, I want to be remembered long after I’m gone. And I want my son (or children) to continue to learn from their father. This is why I write. It would be lovely to make a boat load of money (still working on it), but I do this for things that are considered to be priceless. This is my legacy. And if I do live to be 82-years-old, then I would have blazed a trail for my kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids to travel.

–The Ravings of a Madman