Many creatives I’ve met and studied have outlined, sometimes well-practiced and even calculated, creative processes. My methods, or seeming lack thereof, are more like a bizarre brand of madness. The way my brain works, my creativity often latches onto a certain concept, then so much energy goes into analyzing that concept from a high-level philosophical perspective.

Philosophical constructs are my specialty. I’m an engineer in abstract and ethereal terms. Much of the math and such things that you think of in terms of engineering baffle me. But there is a certain harmony and rhythm to our universe. It’s these aspects that most delight me to study.

A few years back, I finally reached a point in my life where our world’s fixation on material wealth began to lose its hold on me. I became more concerned with the spiritual well-being of myself and others directly around me. I’ve used the term “fellow wanderers” often in my journals when referring to humanity in general. After all, that is what most of us really are from a spiritual standpoint.

Even as I’ve continued to advance as a writer, I still shy away from writing on these more advanced level topics. That’s because most people would be so confused by my phraseology that they would simply flick over to something else without giving it a second thought. I have to figure out a way, a more gradual series of philosophical constructs, to break them down into more bite-sized pieces.

What’s scary and beautiful about philosophy at the same time is that many people believe that we’re all a product of random chance. Essentially, that means that our existence has no real meaning. Why do people want to believe that this existence is pointless? To me, that just makes no sense. What would the point be of just randomly creating a universe just to destroy it? 

I was born with what some may call a God-given ability to create dynamic creative worlds. But really, whenever I set myself to creating any sort of fictional world, it’s at the very least loosely based on concepts that already exist. What I’m attempting to do is put these ideas into what a philosopher might call a “more perfect” form. 

This is why I wanted to become a “content revivalist” since I’m pretty good at taking ideas and building much more elaborate philosophical constructs around them. I tend to overanalyze everything, so not only do I confuse other people, but I end up confusing myself. Sometimes, I’ll read things that I wrote and be like, okay, well, I know where I was going, but what does this have to do with what I was trying to say?

The Universe works in the most mysterious ways and oftentimes in ways that you couldn’t possibly expect. That’s why as I’ve gotten older, I prefer writing nonfiction to creating fictional worlds. In some ways, I’ve turned into the full-time philosopher I insisted I would never actually become.