I have asked myself how the heck I ended up a fantasy writer so many times that it amazes even me.
I know in truth it is because I compete at every level in my life. I played 3 college sports....to win. I play video games to....win. I took college courses I didnt even like, because it would help me succeed at things I couldnt win at.
Then, one day, I decided to take a stupid celtic mythology class. Maybe I did suck, maybe I can't write, or maybe the teacher was a male-jock-hating machine, I don't know. Whatever it was, she asked that we write our own mythology.
Now, at this point in my life I had not even read a book, and furthermore HATED to write. Thus, when I recieved my very first F I shouldn't have been surprised. Yet....it pissed me off so much that I felt compelled to confront her. She told me "This is the worst piece of shO&^% I have ever read. I wish I could grade it lower!"
In my mind I kept telling myself that I was part of the Honor Society at my small college, and that she was wrong, but I couldnt break away from the thought pattern that it was a direct insult to me. Finally, it drove me to pick up any book I could get my hand on, to write until my eyes were sore, and finally, to get back at that Bizzah.
After I won my first three writing contests in Southern Oregon, I made sure to send her anything as a basic F off. To this date she gets any award I win as an insult back at her. It prolly doesnt work, but it sure make ME feel good.
Anyways, for my first novel, I was told by my mother-in-law that #1) I was going to Hell because I wasn't a Christian. #2) That there is no way in heck I could ever write a novel, I just didn't have that kind of longevity.
Both comments made me so mad that I sat down one day, titled a document, and in three months, wrote a 500 page manuscript.
Weird I know, but I am nothing, if not driven to extremes by people's comments.