I have loved books and reading as far back as I can remember. And I loved to write. Even when I was very young, I loved strolling through the aisles of bookstores and picking up random books to read. Sometimes I would be awed by the brilliant prose and think, I could never write like that. And then I would pick up another book that was not so well written, and I would think, if he can write like that and somehow get his book on a shelf in a bookstore, I know I can too. This was long before self-publishing made the process much easier.

So, I had it in my heart to become a writer from an early age, yet I never pursued writing as a career. Why? Henry Ford said, “Whether you think you can, or think you can’t, you are right.” I didn’t think I could. Therefore, I didn’t. Growing up, I never thought I’d amount to much at all. I come from a rough background - not a lot of money, not a lot of education. But somehow, the dream lived on. Here's my story:
I was born into a poor family and lived in the shadows cast by the glitzy part of the city where I grew up – the part of town known to outsiders, you know, the desirable part of town. You’ve heard stories about people who were poor but never knew it? When you’re a poor kid from a dysfunctional family in the big city, you know you’re poor.
As a child, I didn't have much - we couldn't afford new clothes or toys, and there were often nights we went to bed hungry. If you are familiar with the movie Sling Blade, you know about biscuits and mustard. Onion sandwiches were my treat.
Look up dysfunctional family, and you’ll see a photo of the McCoy family. My father was an alcoholic who stayed drunk for twenty-five years straight, as I recall – literally falling-down drunk. He actually did fall down drunk on the steps leading to the entrance to my school one day when I was in elementary school. In his defense, he came there to defend me because of the latest trouble I had gotten into, which I'm sure I didn't deserve because I was likely guilty of the infraction, whatever it was.
My mom was in and out of insane asylums (they were called that in those days). By some miracle, with that background, I managed to stay out of jail. But I did get expelled from elementary school, if that counts for anything.
One of my earliest memories is watching mom talk to the man in the watch she wore on her necklace (a treasured gift from her kids) before she was hauled off to the asylum for shock treatments. Another memory is visiting her there and being entertained by some patients who clung to bars and acted like monkeys. You can imagen how much fun it was at my house. Ahh...the halcyon days of youth.
Why do I tell these stories? If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that comebacks are possible—no matter how rough your background may be. When facing difficult times, remember that better days are ahead if you're willing to keep fighting for your dreams.
You can see where my passion for storytelling comes from. All of us have stories worth telling. Another thing I’ve learned in life is that even if you come from what may appear to others as a privileged background, you have been through rough times of your own. No one escapes that in this life. And you have much wisdom to share because of it.
I know about life and how to write about it. I would love to help you share your story with others.