Matthew Daley's Blog

Getting to this point feels like a miracle. You work so hard for so long and you actually get a book published, which means someone believed enough in your vision to take a risk on you. The day your books is released feels like the greatest thing ever - outside of important life milestones like weddings and birth of a child - and all you want to do is celebrate and you expect the entire world wants to celebrate with you.

That's not reality, but for a few hours, you've earned the fantasy.

One of the best pieces of advice I was ever given by a fellow writer was, "curb your expectations". This was after the first reading I had ever done, years before I was a published author. He was referring to the day your book is available to the world. He didn't mention this because publishing a book isn't exciting. Rather, he said this because you think someone is going to throw you a parade and that's not quite true.

Because once the book is out, you have a whole lot of work to do. You have to promote it like your life depended on it. If it doesn't sell, nobody is going to care about your next book. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't begin working on your next book. You have to keep the creative juices flowing.

So yes, the day your book is released is equal parts exuberance and stress. In other words, it's fantastic.

Thanks to everyone that signed-up for a chance to win one of ten advanced copies of my upcoming book, The Not-So Secret Society: Tale of the Gummy from BOOM! Studios. The response was more than I could have imagined, especially since this is a brand new property .

I think this speaks a lot to readers' interests in graphic novels. It is an area of publishing that has seen growth these past few years and I'm thrilled to contribute to that.

Congratulations to those that won; you'll be receiving your book soon. For those that didn't (all 898 of you!), please consider picking up the book when it's released on August 1st. It'll be available most everywhere and even you're really anxious, you can pre-order it.

Not only that, but I'd love to hear what you think about the book. I'm confident you'll enjoy it and want to share it with other people. It's fun, funny, and has a little something for everyone.

I'll be writing more about the book in the upcoming weeks. Up next is San Diego Comic Con, which I can't wait for. Hopefully I'll see some of you there! I'll be at the BOOM! Studios booth every day and speaking at a panel on Sunday.

Again, thanks to everyone for signing up for the giveaway. It means the world to me.

Lists. There’s no reason to fight them. Whether they arrive at the end of a calendar year or decade or in the midst of a dinner conversation. All people, it seems, and not just critics, are expected to have the ability to compartmentalize things that they like or dislike into a list. Top 5 this, Top 10 that. It can be difficult to keep track of all these lists, even if you genuinely like them.

Fortunately for me, I’m not a critic and I’m not pressured to generate new lists all of the time. I do enjoy reading them, like “Best Books of the Year” and “Best Summer Songs of the Past 25 Years”. I’m a sucker for these things. But I’ve never compiled a list of my own.

Until this week.

Last weekend, in The New York Times, their chief film critics, A.O. Scott and Manohla Dargis, collaborated to celebrate their favorite twenty-five films of the 21st Century (https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2...). No easy task, though it is much easier than the unlucky Times critics in 2099 that have to figure out their “Best 25 Films of the 21st Century” list. Those critics might not even be born yet, but they should get started anyway.

I’m not here to dissect their list. Nor am I interested in doing so. They chose great films and I’m sure that they had many arguments to narrow it down to twenty-five films. Rather, I’m here to present my own list. There’s a good chance that this list is only of interest to me and that’s okay. It was a fun exercise.

First of all, I thought it would be easy. I didn’t look at anyone else’s list (many have popped up on Twitter), nor would I do any research. I’d go off the top of my head, writing down movies from this century that really stayed with me. Once I started jotting down titles, the list grew to over forty films. In less than ten minutes. And then it grew to over sixty.

Stop. This wasn’t going to be easy. I thought I wouldn’t make it to twenty-five and now I was going to need to remove titles Hunger Games-style. This was painful. Gone were many titles that I loved. Once I reached twenty-nine films, I seriously considered cheating and making it a Top 30 list. A ridiculous idea. Who makes Top 30 lists? I had to get rid of four more films. Begrudgingly, I did.

The one thing that I didn’t do - that Scott and Dargis did - was place my list in order of preference. That was way too difficult. I alphabetized my list instead. That’s a form of cheating, I acknowledge, but I’d never finish if I had to play favorites.

When I looked at my choices, I nodded. Yes, these were the right films to place on my Top 25 Films of the Century list. But what did they say about me?

Six are comedies. I was surprised. I like comedies (who doesn’t?), but I don't tend to revisit comedies all that often, mostly because, many aren’t revisiting. Once you’ve experienced the jokes, they wear thin upon repeat viewings.

Five are action films. This feels right.

Eight are dramas, to varying degrees. Okay. Makes sense.

Two are science fiction. I thought this would be higher.

Two animated films. I’m a father of three, so I could easily make a Top 25 Animated Films list.

One horror film and one documentary. I watch a lot of both - arguably more than any other genres - and yet only two really stuck with me.

Those are cold categories, for many of these could fall into multiple genres. That’s what’s exciting. Modern stories are able to borrow from every genre and create something fresh. I think it says a lot about modern audiences too. We expect fluidity. This isn’t only true for cinema. We demand the same thing from our books and TV shows. Will this continue to shape creators in the future? Perhaps, or they could rail against it.

Below is my list and I’ve offered a brief explanation for each. I encourage anyone reading this to create their own list. It isn’t easy, but it’s worth your time…even though it’s bound to change over and over again.

And who knows, maybe I’ll keep making lists!

13 Assassins: control and chaos. Few films balance these two extremes better than this samurai epic. Takashi Miike’s film is so restrained for the first half, playing like so many samurai films, and then explodes into such brutal action that it catches you off guard. Is this the same film? It is and its blend of beauty and brutality are striking.

Be Kind, Rewind: it was sold as a silly comedy about two guys working in a video store that must recreate classic films after a number of films were erased, and it is that, but it is also a sweet film about the power and integrity of community, the fun and unpredictability of DIY culture, and the undeniable way that cinema holds us in its grip. And it’s funny.

Before Sunset: the middle section of Linklater’s trilogy - though I wouldn’t be surprised if we picked up with Jesse and Celine every nine years - pulls off an amazing feat. It’s a near real-time experience where two people talk their way into changing their lives - which feel so real - to have a shot at a relationship that almost was. This series is a time capsule movie. People 500 years in the future can watch them to understand how we were at the end of the 20th Century/beginning of the 21st Century.

Black Dynamite: endlessly quotable and one of the truest examples of Terrible/Great. It’s meant to be bad and it’s meant to be amazing. And it’s both and while that feels effortless, it’s clear that a lot of love and care went into this movie. If you quote this movie to a stranger and that stranger knows what you’re talking about, you’ve just met your new best friend.

Borat: outside of the fact that this film was hilarious, that people in my screening were falling out of their chairs from laughter or walking out in disgust, that people still use the terrible Borat accent, or that it would be almost impossible to make this film now, the thing that amazes me the most is the fact that Sacha Baron Cohen committed so deeply to making this happen. Interestingly, he profiled some of America’s warts that have become, for certain - and far too many - people, a point of pride.

Catch Me if You Can: this is probably the longest “breezy” movie in history, but it flies by on cool and charm and charisma with a dark strain underneath it all. It’s the type of film I wish DiCaprio and Spielberg made more of, but I understand why they don’t. Pulling off a film like this is tough. It’s also filled with moments of “if this weren’t true you wouldn’t believe it”, but it all works.

Children of Men: my wife and I saw this opening night and there were less than ten people in the theater. We thought we’d made the wrong choice, but as soon as the film began, we knew we were witnessing something special. The concept of “world building” is thrown around so much, but Cuaron created the template for how to do it with this film. Throw the audience into the world and they’ll run alongside you to keep up. This film gets better every year.

Collateral: this is one hell of a night in LA. It’s also the strangest shift any cab driver has ever worked. Probably, though I’m sure there’s a close second. Few directors could turn a cab driver into a convincing action hero (unless they went with a cheat, like the cab driver has Black Ops training or is being played by The Rock). Few directors could get such an icy cool performance from Tom Cruise. Michael Mann is not most directors. This is a lean and mean movie.

The Descent: the marketing for this film was deceptively great. My wife and I are suckers for horror films and that it was labeled a “horror” film had us intrigued. The trailers explained that a group of women were setting out for a weekend of spelunking and that in and of itself is kind of scary. We figured something bad was in those caves, but not crazy looking predators. It’s a claustrophobic Deliverance with the horror elements amplified.

Fantastic Mr. Fox: people have looked at me with a dumbfounded expression when I tell them that this is my favorite Wes Anderson movie. They think that I’m either crazy or have only seen this and The Darjeeling Limited. I’ve seen all of his film multiple times, but this is the only one that I can watch with my children and its esteem has grown on me the more times I’ve watched it. The writing is so sharp and the animation so clever that it’s impossible for me to not have it on the top of my Wes Anderson list.

Inception: this was released right around the time that television took over for movies as fodder for water cooler discussions. I remember the shift. But before it happened, this movie dropped in the summertime and it seemed like everyone I knew was talking about it. My second child was born weeks before this came out and the swirl of conversations were so great that my wife and I had to go see it. It was worth the babysitter money and more. It’s part heist movie, part Bond movie, and part head game. And it still works.

Inside Llewyn Davis: how many Llewyn Davis’s have there been throughout history? People with all the talent and ambition to succeed that just don’t make it for one reason or another? How many do each of us know? Only the Coen Brothers could make a film so dark and funny about potential unfulfilled…or how the universe is indifferent to us all. Except for cats.

Kill Bill, Vol. 1: this is the film where Tarantino stopped making films and began making mix-tapes. I hear complaints from people that his 90’s output was so much better than what he’s directed in the 21st Century because his films are blatant homages, or as I referred to it before, mix-tapes. But when you’re a master at mix-tapes, why not go for it? Vol. 2 is also great, but my allegiances lie more with the kung-fu samurai aesthetic than the Western aesthetic. But only ever so slightly.

Mad Max: Fury Road: if someone were to come up to me and say, “there’s this MIND-BLOWING movie about people that drive to one place and then realize that they have to go back to the place where they started, that’s it, that’s the plot”, I’d say they were crazy for thinking anything that simple would be enjoyable. With our modern sensibilities, a plot like that sound insulting to viewers. Except that describes Miller’s masterpiece and I still can’t believe they pulled it off. I’ll be watching this movie for the rest of my life.

Nightcrawler: there is a filth to this film that makes you want to shower after watching it. That’s the power of Louis Bloom, the character played by Jake Gyllenhaal, who is a black hole. He sucks the world around him into his abyss and conform to his philosophy. He has no character arc; characters arc to him. The only other example of this I can think of is Being There.

O.J.: Made in America: who would ever think that spending eight hours with O.J. would be so captivating? Of course it’s about race and police brutality and corrupt systems and celebrity culture and domestic violence and our endless fascination with athletes and how much we enjoy watching someone’s downfall. You think you know everything, but director Ezra Edelman proves that you only scratched the surface before.

The Raid 2: few contemporary action films allow the action to breathe. Paul Greengrass established the rapid-cut aesthetic with The Bourne Supremacy in 2004 and MANY films borrowed that in its wake. Imitators were lazy, thinking that quick, confusing editing put viewers “in” the scene. That’s why both of The Raid films are so refreshing. This is an extremely violent film, but made by a director that understands audiences want to see that action. The action is brilliantly staged and punishing. Fingers crossed this has the same influence as Supremacy.

Sicario: there are times I still get nervous when I put on a movie to watch with my wife. We have common ground, but when we diverge, we do so with extremes. I didn’t think she’d like this. An action-drama about the drug trade. She said, “I’ll watch it, but it sounds boring”. She was silent throughout the film. I took this as a bad sign, that I’d have to hear about my terrible choice. All she said when it finished was, “That was a movie”. As a side note, she’s always been critical of me rereading books and rewatching films; it’s just something she doesn’t get. I’ve watched Sicario four times since she and I first watched it and when she realizes what I’m watching, all she says is, “great movie”. Indeed.

Step Brothers: there’s no in-between with this one. I’ve heard people describe this as the “dumbest” movie they’ve ever seen. And when I reply with, “I was in pain watching this movie, I laughed so hard”, these naysayers expect me to defend myself. I’d like to respond with, “It’s a brilliant absurdist masterpiece disguised as a mid-sized studio comedy”, but instead I respond with, “Comedy is so subjective”. Except in the case of Step Brothers. If you don’t get it, something might be wrong with you.

Talk to Her: Almodovar takes soap opera plots and turns them into masterful films. If anyone else in the world tried to do this, they would fail miserably. I took two friends to see this in the theaters while I was still an undergrad. Neither of them had ever seen a foreign film. I understood that I could be putting these friendships on the line, where they could say afterwards, “you like this stuff?”, in which I would have to choose my loyalties to Almodovar over them. But these two dudes were hooked. It’s the beauty. It’s the grace. It’s the heartbreak. It’s the humor. We rented All About My Mother the next night.

There Will Be Blood: this film didn’t win Best Picture at the Oscars. That might seem shocking in retrospect, but it lost to No Country for Old Men, which is also a great film. Even though people loved Blood upon first release, it has taken ten years for people to appreciate it. And probably another few decades for people to fully appreciate it. It aimed for greatness and exceeded it. Few films have ever achieved that.

Tree of Life: prior to this film, Malick made films that were beautiful and easy to admire, especially for the ways that they combined the sublime with the harsh realities of the world, as if those two things are always butting heads. With Tree, he created a film that you could swim in, get lost, and never be concerned with finding your way out. There are probably ten completely different versions of this film and are all gorgeous.

Wall-E: I’ve had the pleasure of watching this film without the sound. Twice. This is not meant to disrespect all of the great sound designers and sound editors that worked on this film (and Pixar has some of the best sound people in the business), but this movie works so charmingly well as a silent film. It contains beauty in a post-apocalyptic setting, including one of the greatest glimmers of hope in something so simple: a single stem growing from soil. So many films add end-of-the-world noise to up the stakes for characters, but leave it to this film to remind viewers that one small natural element can carry the weight of the world.

Y Tu Mama También: originally, I did not want to include two films by the same director, but no matter how much I tried, I could not eliminate this or Children of Men. Therefore, I have two Alfosno Cuaron films. When I saw this film opening night, it was such a refreshing experience, like I had been trapped in an air conditioned room for months and was breathing in fresh air again. It was so vibrant, loose, exciting, sexy, and poignant. It’s also a heartbreaking story about friendship and how so many come to an end. In other words, it’s about life.

Zodiac: a lot of ink has been spilled about this film, how masterfully crafted it is, the way in which it chronicles obsessions, and so on. Many writers with far more skills than me have expounded its virtues. Other than to say that I’ve watched this at least once per year since its release and how it absorbs me every time, I love to tell the story about when I saw this for the first time. I went to the theaters directly after work on the Friday of its second week in release. There was a smattering of people in the theater, no more than a dozen, most of them older couples trying to beat the Friday-night rush. The lights dimmed, previews ran, and then once the movie started to play, it was apparent immediately that the projectionist had switched Ghost Rider for Zodiac. Perhaps it was a prank or a mistake. Regardless, an elderly woman sitting in the middle of the theater stood up and yelled, “This is NOT Zodiac. FIX it NOW or ELSE!” Fortunately for the projectionist, he or she never had to find out what the “or ELSE” component of her statement was. And because she complained to the manager, we all got a free movie ticket. In my heart, I’ve always believed that woman cashed in on that free ticket and went to a screening of Ghost Rider immediately afterwards.

There are many interesting aspects to being a writer. One of the most enjoyable side-effects of the job is something I never expected to experience: being pitched stories.

This is something I expected at shows, conventions, readings, and what-not. In settings such as this, writers are available for people to talk to. Most conversations revolve around books, but some people - most of them nervous - will pitch ideas. I’m always fascinated by the stories people pitch me because it seems that most people don’t have the opportunity to use their imaginations as much as they should.

People are creative. Look at they way that children play. They really don’t need much. Children can be in a room filled with toys and choose a plastic container to play with over anything else. Creativity goes by the wayside for numerous reasons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still an integral part of who a person is. More often than not, they aren’t expected to use it.

When it comes to imagination and creativity, most people don’t have the skills to paint or build things. But a majority of people were taught how to use words. Most people lose the joy of writing through years of writing essays in school, but if not provided with boundaries, people would take great pleasure with writing. Or maybe that’s just the thinking of an optimistic writer.

Coming up with ideas for a story is natural. It’s an extension of creating games when you’re a kid. And many people are constantly consuming stories, whether through reading books or watching films and television. We love stories. We can’t get enough of them. After awhile we start to think, “maybe I should come up with my own story”. That’s essentially what writers do.

I’m never surprised when someone pitches me an idea at a convention. It does, however, catch me off guard, when someone shares an idea with me anywhere else. And it’s happened quite a few times. At parties. My kids’ soccer practice. Birthday parties. Family reunions. And so on and so on. It seems like most people that share a story idea with me want to know if it’s any good. My response is always the same: “that sounds great”. Because who am I to say otherwise? It’s all about the delivery.

Whenever this happens, I wonder if there are other professions that experience the same type of interactions. Doctors, I imagine, might get such inquiries when they’re off duty, much to their chagrin. Lawyers too, perhaps. Or it might be something reserved for writers. Regardless, it always makes me smile.

For reasons I cannot quite explain, I wanted to write a book for young readers. I’d had a bunch of ideas over the years that would be good for middle readers or young adults, but I talked myself out of it because I was worried that I couldn’t pull it off. Writing, in general, is one thing while writing for kids seemed like an entirely different beast.

Consider all the books that you truly, truly love and I bet there are quite a few that you first discovered as a kid. This is why I have so much admiration for authors of children’s books, middle reader books, and young adult books, regardless of genre. It remains impressive the impact that certain writers had on me, like E.B. White, Shel Silverstein, Madeline L’Engle, L.M. Montgomery, Roald Dahl, Wilson Rawls, Lois Lowry, Crockett Johnson, Katherine Paterson, Mary Norton, Louise Fitzhugh, Chris Van Allsburg, Astrid Lindgren, Mildred D. Taylor, Judy Blume, Ellen Raskin, Lynne Reid Banks, Alvin Schwartz, and a whole lot more. These writers held me in their spell and in a certain way, continue to do so. They made magic with words and in subtle ways, inspired me to want to be a writer. It wasn’t until I wrote my first story and had adults react positively (in the fifth grade) that I wanted to be a writer, but all of that reading beforehand prepared me to even take on such a daunting task of writing a real story.

The impact of these writers and their works was so profound that I didn’t dare see one of my ideas - good or bad - to fruition. I concentrated, instead, on developing ideas for adult readers. If an adult read my work and didn’t enjoy it, they’d dismiss it and move on; if a child read my work and didn’t enjoy it, they might dismiss reading altogether. That’s a lot of pressure. This attitude - or fear - reminds me of a quote from Roald Dahl. He said: “Children’s books are harder to write. It’s tougher to keep a child interested because a child doesn’t have the concentration of an adult. The child knows the television is in the next room. It’s tough to hold a child, but it’s a lovely thing to try to do.” While it is a “lovely thing to try to do”, it can be daunting. But I no longer had an excuse.

After publishing my first series, the itch to write for children came back. At first, I tried to ignore it. “It’ll go away”, I told myself. It didn’t. It got worse. Finally, I succumbed. I couldn’t run away from it forever. Not that writing for kids was my calling, necessarily, but it could be part of my repertoire.

I spent more time on “pre-writing” activities with The Not-So Secret Society than I had on any other project. It had to be right before I took it to the publisher because I wanted it to have an impact on readers in the same way that so many great books influenced me. I wanted kids to read it and be inspired to read more and pick up a pencil and start writing their own stories. This is lofty and I totally get it. The likelihood of that happening is slim, but I’m optimistic. Even with all of the distractions that kids deal with. When Mr. Dahl made his above statement, he didn’t have to compete with video games and phones and tablets and…you get it. I could be cynical about this OR I could hunker down and see this as an opportunity. Yes, kids might have more distractions than ever before, but that doesn’t make books less important. It makes them more important. Kids still love to read and if they find a book or a series that they love, it’s even more impressive.

While it may or may not be more difficult to write for children than adults, it’s definitely more important. And I couldn’t be more excited and nervous for my first book for young readers to hit bookshelves on August 1st. From there, you never know what young reader will discover it.

By the time my career is over and I look back on it with pride, I certainly hope that one of the characters I’ve created has a superpower unlike any other: the ability to not feel nervous. That might not sound like the greatest superpower of all time, considering how great it would be (at least temporarily, you know, for a test run) to have Superman’s powers or Professor X’s powers. But how many people get nervous about something? Everyone. Except babies. And certain elderly people when they cross a certain age threshold and stop caring what other people think. But even then, they might get a tiny bit nervous.

Would the ability to not be nervous be all that beneficial? It’s worth thinking about. Being nervous can be a good thing. It can prevent you from doing something stupid. And it can force you to over prepare for a situation. I suppose if you didn’t feel nervous you’d always be overconfident, which would lead to its own set of problems.

The only reason nervousness or the ability to not feel nervous is on my mind is because, big surprise, I’ve been nervous. The kind of nervousness that impairs my sleep, has me second guessing things, messes with my diet. The all-encompassing type. Externally, I’ve kept it cool. I haven’t chewed my fingernails off or forgotten basic hygiene. Internally, I’m a mess.

All because I have a new project launching in three days.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited. Ecstatic. Euphoric. Look up excited in the thesaurus. I’m all those words. Being on the verge of a new project’s launch is one of the most intense and rewarding times anyone can experience. I’ve been working on this project for two years and I haven’t spoken about it that often because I like things to be announced before spilling my guts. Call me superstitious. Or call me foolish because, hey, you know what?, maybe talking about it would make me less nervous. Doubtful, but maybe.

So if I’m all types of excited, why am I nervous? Outside of the fact that nervousness and excitement are quite similar, once the project is announced and once it’s out in the world, I can no longer control it. My work is done. If people hate it, I can’t change it. If people laugh at it, I can’t put up a forcefield to protect it. It lives. Just like Anne Bradstreet proclaimed in her poem “The Author to Her Book” (1678): “Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain”. Writers having cold feet isn’t new!

This is the writer’s version of stage freight. It’s certainly possible for us to go out into the world and make public appearances, read in front of an audience, interact with fans, and so on, but that pales in comparison to a release. This is our opening night performance. If something might go wrong, it’s bound to happen on opening night. The benefit of a performance is that things can be corrected and improved. With a book, every performance is opening night.

So what’s the advice? Get it right the first time? Easier said than done. So much work and rework goes into anything that’s ever published. It’s a minor miracle that anything is ever published, that a writer is willing to let go, to, as Bradstreet put it, “send thee out the door”. Writers want people to read their work - I’m sure there are a few out there that don’t, but that sounds like a reverse psychology marketing strategy that just might work - and when someone spends quality time with a book, they form an opinion about it. Writers do the same thing when they read. The sharing of opinions happens in so many different ways now that you are bound to hear them. It’s almost impossible to tune it out. It always feels wonderful when someone says nice things about your work, but the scathing remarks stick with you. You could hear 100 comments that praise you and the one that calls you a fraud or hack sticks with you more. That’s the way most of us are wired.

I keep telling myself I’m ready. And I’ll always have to remind myself of this. That this particular book - whichever one it may be from this point on - deserves to meet the world. It’s meant to be this way. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous about it. Or that I shouldn’t be.

Finishing a first draft, whether it's a short story, novel, or script, is always a triumphant experience. You've set out to create something - to populate a blank sheet of paper with words - and you overcome so many obstacles to get there. Lack of time. Creative roadblocks. Doubt. And so many more that are personal to each writer.

Getting through all of those things is a triumph. Having a first draft feels incredible. Every writer that reaches this level should feel proud. It's an accomplishment and many people that set out be become writers never finish a draft. Having a first draft is a big deal.

It is, however, only the beginning.

The transformation from first draft to published work is dramatic. The real, nitty gritty work happens once the first draft is submitted. It doesn't matter how carefully planned and plotted your piece was in the pre-writing phase and how closely the first draft aligns to the initial idea, a tremendous amount of work still remains.

This shouldn't be daunting at all. This is where the fun begins. First of all, you get to share the first draft with others. These others should be talented and honest, because your first draft needs honest feedback. If you're lucky enough to have an editor on it, be prepared to have your first draft returned to you in a very wounded state. Don't worry. It's supposed to be. Secondly, you really discover what your work is in the editing and rewriting stages. What do you want to say? What's important about the characters? Who are the characters? Do the story beats work? How can this piece of literature best reflect you as a writer?

All of these questions, and many more, are answered after you complete the first draft.

I'm about to begin the editing/rewriting phase of my next project, which means I just finished the first draft. It feels incredible to be done, but the real work is about to start. The script, for an original graphic novel, is something I'm very proud of, though I'm not fooling myself to believe that it's anywhere close to being "done". It will need a few more passes before the artist will read it. But that's what's exciting.

The first draft is complete. The story it will become, however, is just getting started.

When I was sixteen, back in the fresh again decade known simply as "the 90's", having access to a website that allowed millions of people to build friendships over books/authors, discuss such books, rate such books, and build a wish list of books to read, I would have been in serious trouble. I would have spent very little time doing anything but visiting the site. This is both true because I love talking about books and because I would have been a prisoner to a slow dial-up connection.

Fast forward twenty years and such a site - and much speedier internet - exists, I'm fortunate enough to be a published author, and I'm now finally getting around to being an active member of a community I would have LOVED when I was a kid.

So what took me so long?

Life.

It's a generic answer, but it's true. Life has a way of sweeping you into different avenues. But I'm here now and happier for it!

While I do not have a set plan for my goodreads activities, I'm excited to share thoughts, review books now and again, and most importantly, interact with other incredible book lovers. I'll try my best to keep my thoughts/musings to the literary world, but there might be digressions now and again. You've been warned.

Follow me on Twitter (@matthewjdaley) and find free selections at www.matthewjdaley.com.