Confession: I have a ridiculous obsession with aliens.

Not just Men from Mars, but just the idea of aliens. That somewhere out in the big, black sea other life forms exist and that they might be as curious as we are to reach out to our fellow life forms.

In fact, my whole book is filled with aliens. They feel so human, you wouldn’t know it.

Aliens, or the concept of being alien, has become a theme in my work. In high school, my first creative writing portfolio was about aliens. The first poem was about a man from mars, but I soon covered the idea of a homosexual as being alien, and how people feel alien from those who are close to them. That last one was a little too close to my heart.

Almost all of my writing has covered the idea of things that are alien to us, or things we are alien to. I think I could cover this theme for my entire life and not quite touch on all the aspects of what it means to be an alien.

I’ve heard so many stories, those who were outcast because of a refusal to conform to societal standards, or those who just didn’t look or act like everyone else. Each story laced with sadness, pain and confusion. How can we search for life out there when we mistreat the life down here so horribly?

I have not found an answer to that question. But maybe, someday, the world can say they are ready for life out there, because everyone down here can say they love the aliens around them.

My heart will sing at that day.


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