"When the day has come that I am gone, and the memory of my life is but a whisper in the heart of those who remember, let it be written that I dreamt in both the light of day and the dark of night, with love in my eyes and peace in my heart, for all of all."

Read, write, repeat. Read, write, repeat. Read, write, oh shit, I forgot to feed the cat. Read, write, feed the cat, repeat. And so it plays on.
Read: I never planned on writing. Sure, I've always read quite a bit. In fact, the greatest stories I have ever found were the ones sitting lonely on a table, in the books I knew nothing of, but simply, picked up and lived. I have read many of the "so called" classics, though, who is anyone else to decide what is a classic in my eyes? I do not limit myself with genres, as no one genre moves me more than another. While I understand the necessity of it, I find the labels limiting, and that is something I do not care for. A good story has no boundaries, why try and put walls around it? Is that not the death of creativity? I try to keep my mind as open as the book I am reading. Every book, every genre, tells me as much about myself as the story I am living with each page I turn. Perhaps, I am crazy. If so, than I believe you must be a little crazy to stay sane in this world.
Write: I am 38 years young, a family man, no greater in this endeavor of putting words on a page than any other. In fact, with every new book I read, I become more and more convinced that I am terrible at it. Somehow, someway, I have found that others enjoy my suffering, so with tortured satisfaction, I will continue. When I started out writing my first work--Beyond John Dann--I did not live to write. I was writing, because I had lived. My book, my story (which my own life created the foundation for), told itself. My hands on the keys, just the medium to what time and tale had decided to be my destiny. Today, I can not go a moment without a story in my head. My characters, like prisoners in my mind, follow me into every store, engage silently in every conversation, consuming my breathe until their voice is allowed the freedom they deserve. My eyes, the wardens of time and space, capture every scene as they wander beyond reality. Madness! That is what writing is in truth--madness.
Repeat: I am never quite content until I have challenged myself to do something that makes me absolutely miserable until I have achieved it. Every single day, I live the insanity. Every single day, I relive the madness. Every single day, I read, write, and repeat the process. I do not force it, I just do it. It is all with the hope that my books may challenge others to be better people, or perhaps, smile a little easier. Despite all that I write about the struggle, the torture, the lack of confidence, I always smile and lead with kindness. I do it for no other reason than it is the right way to be.
With Kindness, Thurman P. Banks Jr.