B. G. Howard was born and raised in the small town of Baxley, in South Georgia where he graduated high school prior to relocating to Macon, GA. While there, he attended College at Mercer University, though circumstances prevented him from completing his collegiate education. He has lived in a number of cities throughout the eastern part of the United States before finally relocating to Florida and, eventually, becoming self-employed.

The, now, former business owner continues to reside in Jacksonville. There, he suffered an automobile accident in 2001, leaving him classified as “clinically disabled.” He considers the extensive injuries suffered as a blessing given that it, subsequently, opened the opportunity for him to embark upon his new career as an author.”

A state and national award winner as a columnist years before the accident, B. G. Howard resumed his efforts writing an opinion column for the hometown newspaper in Baxley during September of 2015. He also writes philosophy, poetry and short stories as B. G. admits, “There is so much inside my head writing is simply a mandatory outlet.”

He confirmed, “I want to be a good author who happens to have survived an accident, not an accident survivor who became a good author because of surviving.”

Many have inquired as to the very purpose of my desire to write which, to me, is the equivalent of the reason one chooses to breathe or eat. In short, it becomes essential for our very existence. Ironically, much of my writing is done without personal input. That is, I prove to be little more than an instrument…a vessel, as thoughts come outside the realm of anything I can manage. Often the direction is disrupted or infringed upon as the intent will be pursuit of one result but I’ll find myself a thousand miles away from the outlined ambition.

Few embark upon any perceived purpose without some degree of insight as to where they’ll eventually end up or what’s truly desired in the guise of personal accomplishment. The principle for my writing somewhat varies as the art evolves from what is perceived a void; with neither a known beginning nor a realized ending. As such, the reason I write can only be summed up as necessary. The argument is presented that it only makes sense if I have a calculated or monetized end. However, I contend there are some things that surpass even the benefit of financial gain.

Contrary to popular opinion, some aspects of life aren’t to be understood but, just accepted. As infants, we fully accept the need for nourishment long before it is ever truly understood. As adults, we are completely accepting of the fact financial stability is essential for an acceptable quality of life prior to ever totally realizing the adverse consequences. As such, is my need to simply write barring all reason or explanation. At present, I find myself trapped half-way between nowhere and forever simply attempting to make sense of the foolery imagined as life. Ironically, the more we learn the less understanding we seem to have. Reason suggests it is not necessary for me to understand why..but just realize the need to write.

Welcome to the space between my ears where reality exists only in the sense that it can be scripted, edited, and again, rewritten.