It starts for some with something simple: a sunset that hits the trees just right, a stolen conversation, a fight over a boy, even the simple sighting of a passing bird. But for some, worldly complexity is the only way to be inspired. It’s usually termed a “plot bunny” in the world of underground writing, and it has the ability to change the way a person lives forever.

Now there’s one thing you’ll learn quickly about the connection between writing and my brain: it switches tracks constantly. My old desktop computer at home has over eight unfinished novels on it. I get an idea for a novel, dive in, then half-way through I get an idea for another novel, put the other novel “on hold” (abandon it) and go on to the next one. It’s a filthy habit, and I fear it will dramatically affect my dream of getting published in the future. Needless to say, it’s time for change.

Due to my curiosity over my Germanic heritage and my heart-throbbing obsession with Celtic culture, I happened upon a plot bunny one day when I was about twelve. As usual, I drew out the contents, wrote up a forty page outline for my story, and got right down to business. Unfortunately, about two days later I had a discussion with my step-sister about the War on Terror and ended up completely dropping my story idea. The notes sat for several years, untouched on my desktop.

About a month and a half ago, I was cleaning out all my old files and transferring all the old treasures to my new laptop. Guess what I stumbled upon.

I read the notes and grumbled to myself about how idiotic I can be. The plot, with a little tweaking, could’ve stemmed my first complete novel. Disappointed in myself, I did what I usually end up doing in all situations—running.

I went for a jog, iPod intact, and ended up shuffling upon the song Save Me by Poets of the Fall. It started small, but the bunny was like a shock of lightning to my system. I had an idea. A really good one.

I raced back home, studied my old notes, and without a second glance, deleted the entire thing. My novel may have been inspired by the old plot, but it’s its own story. It’s a fresh idea, and the last thing I want is it sneaking into my new work.

This school year, I invite you to join me on my journey as I finally take charge of my writing skills and force myself to focus on one novel. Though serious about most of the challenges I’m presented with, I’m usually the first to admit I’m not good at much. One thing I know I’ll always have is my writing. When I’m equipped with a pen or keyboard, I am more confident than I’ll ever be in my spacey media booth at clc, when I’m wailing away on my trumpet, or counting measures high up on my drum major podium. Writing isn’t something I had to study vigorously to learn—it’s in my blood.

So, now it begins. I have a rough draft outline, a progressive timeline, several pages of character development sheets, and a head full to bursting with excitement. I won’t tell you too much about it yet; only that the title is Victor, and it’s going to be filled with more intense adventure than I’ll ever hope to be involved in. Know this, for an eighteen year old boy by the name of David O’Neal, a boy who is nothing more than the soon-to-be tortured soul spat straight from my twisted mind, life is about to get very, very gritty.