EroticScribbler

About

Born in the '60s, I grew up with a severe learning disability and ADHD. Because I changed schools so many times in my first 6 years, I fell through the cracks and went undiagnosed until high School, but by then I had already been traumatized by teachers and students who decided I was a discipline problem and stupid, respectively. Third graders could read and spell better than me, but somehow I always managed to move on to the next grade with the help of summer school and "generous" teachers who didn't want to see me again the following year.

With no hope of keeping up at a college level, if one would have taken me, I didn't mind doing manual labor. I was good at building and fixing things. There's nothing wrong with that and I could make a living at it.

As an avid bicyclist, I spent a lot of time on a bike. One day, I was run down by a car. My family was given little hope of my survival, but a month later I woke up in ICU with people trying to convince me I couldn't move. I figured they were lying because my brain remembered what my limbs felt like. If they would untie me, I would prove I could walk, is what I said.

After proving harder to kill than they thought, the doctor said I'd never move from the neck down. 9 months later, I was released from the rehabilitation hospital without feeling in 90% of my body, and limited use of my arms and wrists, but no use of my fingers.

For a couple of years, I tried solving my problems with alcohol and drugs, but they didn't fix me or kill me fast enough, so I got my shit together and started working with computers. I was able to keep up and support myself for more than 20 years before the wheels came off and my life derailed. The physical and mental demands of IT became too much. My hands, wrists, and shoulders couldn't do it anymore. I lost my wife, house, job, and self-respect all in a few months.

One day, sitting in a crappy apartment, I started writing a story. I didn't know anything about how to write, other than computer code, so when I shared it with someone they said, you punctuate and spell like a third grader. They were right. That was around the same time I read the first book that I didn't have to read for school, The Road Less Traveled.

I still can't spell, still live in the same crappy apartment, subsisting month to month on disability, but I have learned a few things about writing a story. It is hard work physically and mentally, since I have to hunt and peck with pencils attached to devices secured to my hands, but as long as the pain in my wrist and shoulders doesn't get too bad, I will keep learning and creating. I hope you enjoy what I worked so hard to create.