Narcisse is not my real name but it will do for now. Narcisse is a pen name whose purpose is to keep the prudes that can’t deal with a little erotica in their lives out of my hair. Yes, I write erotica, porn, dirty fiction, lewd stories, whatever you want to call them. No, I don’t apologize for having an overactive, sexy imagination or for my writing. I don’t apologize for being a bit left of center or prone to exaggerations. I believe my crazy, wacky, hyperactive world to be nothing short of a miracle. While most of you are going to work and doing mundane things like bitching out your fellow commuters, like Alice, I’ve already believed in at least six impossible things before breakfast. My imaginary world of thoughts, voices, images, lopsided emotional ambiguities and brightly colored metaphors colors my entire existence. I have, on many occasions, tried to explain what it’s like to have my brain (which I believe to have been steeped too long in feel-good tea) to my darling co-author but it is not an easy accomplishment. There are no words to describe the almost drug-like high that I walk around with normally. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s pretty damn awesome and I should probably put it to good use.

I have been writing my whole life so it didn’t surprise me when suddenly one morning I woke up and told myself, “I am a best selling author.” Notice the words, I am, not was, going to be or will be. I am denotes the urgency of the now. I am invokes the feeling that, well, “I AM!” There is nothing more powerful than these words to transform your life.

I have had a very successful creative career as a designer. I design web sites, print, packaging, stationery, iPhone apps, you name it. I have been in the creative field for years. I enjoy my profession but can’t say I wasn’t seeking more. I was searching for the AHA! moment–the moment when I would become so engaged with a creative project all else would suddenly seem trivial. I was searching for the type of work that would become such a joy I couldn’t wait to get to it.

I have always been the type of person to value my good fortune. I am capable of being happy with little, and indeed growing up, I was quite poor. Blessed with abundance and free time made me realize that my future was not shackled to the 9-5 grind. In my quest for freedom, I started several businesses: An interactive theater company, a graphic design agency, a magazine and a slew of other small adventures, none of which engaged me too long. The longest was the magazine which consumed four years of my life and ultimately failed. During those years I didn’t do much in the way of personal creative work. My energies were all directed towards the publishing monster that ironically was created to feature the work of lesser-known artists like myself. Perhaps the magazine (called Pandora by the way) was reflective of my desire to be given a chance. I saw the artistic community as an entity devoid of funding, attention and suffering from apathy. While this perception was rooted in truth, I should have never let it become a deterrent to my artistic ambitions.

Artists and dreamers like myself need to be creative or self annihilate. If we succumb to the idea that there is no money in art we might as well lay down and die (aka blend into the crowd, get a menial job and “grow up”). At the end of Pandora’s life I was devastated but not defeated. Some part of me was relieved to have failed. There was triumph in the dismantling of the idea. I had learned a great many things like registering and running an LLC, copywriting, libel insurance, trademarking and more. Publishing was suddenly demystified and no longer something just for Conde Nasts and the big leagues of the publishing world. Opening Pandora’s box gave me courage to try again.

Sometimes we stumble and fall over our destiny and things that should have been obvious only become so in hindsight. Writing has always been a natural talent. I don’t struggle with voicing my ideas. There is a natural, easy rhythm to my thoughts that I can very easily flow into words, poems, run-on sentences and all kinds of fun literary creations. In 1998 it occurred to me write my first novel. I still have that quirky manuscript peeking out from hundreds of google docs screaming, “FINISH ME!” An Endless Hunger is still, very much unfinished. Hell, it doesn’t even have a plot. An Endless Hunger is a 60,000 word exercise into the mind of a detestable killer you love to hate and hate to love. Strange thing is, my protagonist doesn’t even have a name. It’s very mental–a bit of Hannibal Lecter and Bram’s Stoker’s Dracula unleashed in a Gotham-like New York.

After getting nowhere with that first piece of literature I put it down like a wounded animal. In 1998 my publishing dreams were washed out. Why? Cause I didn’t know the first thing about writing a novel! The writing was decent but everything else was like a dangerous structure fire. I had to run out of there.

The thought of the novel, though, lingered for a long time. It was the kind of thought that simmered in the back of my mind as I searched for the meaning of life. In the meantime, I kept writing. I wrote about my personal life, about love, hate, war, politics, poetry, art, travel, you name it. Writing helped heal a great many wounds in my life. It was my shrink, my lifeline, my lover, my wailing wall. When I had no one to talk to, no shoulder to cry on, no one to share my pain or joy with–I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote and when I woke up from my writing dream years had passed. As a result, I was much better equipped to tackle a novel. I had become a better writer.

I write because I’ve stumbled on the story that I am dying for you to read. Unlike the people that give up–surrender is NOT in my vocabulary. I am Narcisse Navarre. I am a writer. I am detached from the outcome. I write for the joy. I write because it is who I am. I write because I AM a bestselling author and best selling authors–write.

I can’t say that I’ve figured it all out, or that the journey will be easy, but the Soulbinder’s Covenant is one novel that is getting written!

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