Growing up, I was labeled a “shy kid”. But in 1989 when I was in 3rd grade, a young local playwright named Eddie McPherson had faith and saw potential in me, recruiting me to portray an island native boy named Maybe in a play he wrote. Wearing a loin cloth, a rope belt, and a khaki colored t-shirt, I spoke in broken English. (Though off the top of my head I can’t think of any island societies where a white boy with brown spiky hair would not be speaking English as a first language.) This play, Captain Gilabo, would be the vehicle that introduced me to a life where I realized it was actually easier and more natural to be on the stage than it was to hide in the corner, afraid of the spotlight.

Every year he would choose me to play a decent sized role for his newest play, from 3rd grade until 9th grade when he moved away from our small town. But my participation in drama didn’t stop only with Eddie McPherson’s plays. During the summers of my childhood to support local charities, for my senior class play, in the after school program I worked for, and in college, I had stage presence. Actually ending up on the front page of my hometown paper several times, promoting the current play I was in.

Not that I was an amazing actor, it’s more that I learned that a good majority of people didn’t necessarily want to be in plays. But for me, I realized that if I simply memorized my lines and pretended to be someone else, I could pull it off. (Because we all have to adapt our personality to better suite those we are around on a daily basis, it seemed to me that acting is a constant part of life anyway.) I became a hometown child actor not because I was necessarily great at it, but because I was willing to do it.

Simply put, I didn’t have much competition. That’s one of the same reasons I have such a passion for writing. The truth is, hardly anyone I know writes on facebook. It gives me the corner on the market. If it was a crowded market instead, I doubt I would be as inspired to participate so regularly. But knowing my competitions were “25 Things” forwards and “What Kind of Hot Pocket Are You?” quizzes, I learned to take advantage of the “notes” tab.

I am convinced there are many entertaining, insightful, and talented people with an impressive ability to write. But they just don’t do it. I wish they would. Some of the best inspiration I get is by reading the writings of the people that hear the same dog whistle as me.

The inspiration and the audience are often one in the same.

The people that are tired of the all too familiar Christian writing involving a predictable moral point like “just trust in God and everything will be alright” like it was copied and pasted from a 2001 email forward that says only people who really love God will send it to everyone in their contacts, or the seemingly smart but ultimately depressing, Debbie Downer-like “my take on what’s wrong with today’s church” bit.

And people who realize that reminiscing about the memories we all share is more fun than worrying out the future and things we can’t control. And people that like to be made aware of the subtle, random aspects of life that we accept yet don’t notice. “Christian Seinfeld with an actual point.”  When people ask me what can of stuff I write, that is my answer.