I grew up in the suburbs of Arizona. I left to go to college in the big city of Los Angeles and about halfway through I realized how much I hated big cities. I got a degree in business and decided I wanted to follow my dream and do something that had absolutely nothing to do with my degree. That makes it sound like that was my dream. To be clear, my dream is to write. It's just coincidental that writing has nothing to do with my degree.
When I was growing up I never liked doing the things I was supposed to like doing. I hated baseball. Coupled with that, I was terrible at it. So you could say it hated me back. The problem with that of course is that the rest of my family loves baseball. When I played in elementary school, with the childhood equivalent of having a gun to my head (no Nintendo 64), I was mostly relegated to right field, where I sat and picked the grass and pondered the sky and the world and my situation.
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It was my parents fault really. They made me play piano at three and I fell in love with music. Eight years later I picked up the upright bass. Two years after that, the guitar. They said it would be a good outlet; little did they know, they'd lit a fire under my ass that would lead to me wanting to write for a living. They'd ended up creating a person that loved art and music and words more than hitting a leatherbound ball with a big wooden stick. It took my grandfather seven years to learn how to have a conversation with me that had nothing to do with sports. And I'm proud of him for it!
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So, here I am. And here you are, if you're reading this. This site is not just a place for me to push my own writing and shamelessly self-promote. I wanted to make a space where I could share the art that moved and inspired me; where I could encourage and critique other aspiring authors; where I could share my experiences and thoughts, and where I could write about why writing is so damn important in the first place.
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Thanks for reading.
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-Collin R. Vogt
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Photography by Sarah Husein
