Gary M. Martin
I was born in the back seat of a greyhound bus heading down highway 41. No, wait. That wasn’t me. Come to think of it I was born in a small town in Alabama called Phenix City. And no I did not misspell it. It is not spelled like Phoenix, Arizona.
My early years – from toddler to teenager -- were spent in Baltimore, Maryland where I became a huge fan of the Baltimore Orioles. Now I’m an Atlanta Braves fan.
I spent five and a half years in the Air Force. Two and a half of those years were spent at Misawa AFB in Japan. While there I earned a black belt in Shotokan Karate. I learned how to kill a man with one finger. Okay, that last sentence isn’t true. But I did see a movie about that. I think Bruce Willis was in it.
The rest of my life has been spent mostly in the electrical field. I don’t regret it, the job paid the bills and for the most part I enjoyed my job. The entire time, however, I was writing and thinking of writing. My problem was I didn’t dedicate myself to writing, because subconsciously I didn’t believe in myself. I was convinced, directly or indirectly, that I needed to be responsible and work a real job. I would never be able to make a living writing. I was just an average joe.
Better late than never I guess. I’ve still got a way to go, but at least I’m heading in the right direction.
My early years – from toddler to teenager -- were spent in Baltimore, Maryland where I became a huge fan of the Baltimore Orioles. Now I’m an Atlanta Braves fan.
I spent five and a half years in the Air Force. Two and a half of those years were spent at Misawa AFB in Japan. While there I earned a black belt in Shotokan Karate. I learned how to kill a man with one finger. Okay, that last sentence isn’t true. But I did see a movie about that. I think Bruce Willis was in it.
The rest of my life has been spent mostly in the electrical field. I don’t regret it, the job paid the bills and for the most part I enjoyed my job. The entire time, however, I was writing and thinking of writing. My problem was I didn’t dedicate myself to writing, because subconsciously I didn’t believe in myself. I was convinced, directly or indirectly, that I needed to be responsible and work a real job. I would never be able to make a living writing. I was just an average joe.
Better late than never I guess. I’ve still got a way to go, but at least I’m heading in the right direction.
