Ian Tremblay - Author
See The Official Book Trailer Below of The Illegal And The Refugee
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ian Tremblay is an indie author and poet who currently works in the entertainment business. He studied English Literature and has published two four story collections, Tales of Inhumanity and Retribution and Tales of Duplicity and Discontent, as well as a novel, The Illegal and the Refugee-An American Love Story. He is a world traveler, fishing aficionado and music enthusiast.
Some of the individual stories of his first two books are in the process of being made available in paperback and on all digital platforms. Aisha-A Tale of Retribution and The Death and Life of Gustav Henn are the first two and were published in 2015. Rich Homeless Broken But Beautiful is the third and a novel and was published in 2016. If you wish to find out more about the author go to his website www.iantremblay.com |
A little about myself and my writing...
To be completely candid, I guess I could say about my writing that I am more a tinkerer than a tradesman or more a cobbler than a shoemaker if you will. I am not, a literary sophisticate, or a clever wordsmith and I do not come from the writing or academic worlds.
I am not particularly well read or educated, and you have never seen me on any lists, I have never been mentioned for awards or been critically acclaimed, and my writing has never been spoken about by anybody of importance, except for my close friends that is.
I hail from a poor and simple working class family and as such, I have tasted the bitter and crushing shame of poverty early on, and I have experienced every conceivable form of privation, from hunger to hand me downs and I learned early about sibling love and rivalry and the importance of sticking together, and that life can be a struggle, and then some. The brutality of existence entered early into my life and opened a hole in my heart which I have never been able to mend, and one of the consequences of that was that I was precocious in my development, and I became an adult before my time. That precipitation forged me into the hardened, taciturn and wary human being that I became and that I still am today.
I am plain spoken and direct and can be sometimes brutal as life was with me, and I have learned the hard way that nothing in life is really black or white, and that there is a hell of lot of grey in everything that moves, thinks, dreams, lives or dies. At this stage of my life I dwell only on one certainty, and that is that I am in love, in love with writing that is, because before writing in my life there was nothing, nothing of substance that is, and now, now I have this, and it is mine to own and to make what I want of it, and I intend to do just that, no matter what anybody thinks or doesn’t think, and no matter what will be broken or created. I believe stories can be transformative and are precious to our collective hearts, and that they help us on our journey and to make sense of our lives.
I have only one rule that I follow in my toils, yes toils, as I am not a natural talent, but one whose work has to be chipped at and slowly sculptured by endless hours, days, months and years of painstaking efforts and that rule is that I put my all and everything into the work at hand, and to make the result the best that I can make it, and then, when it is done, I let it stand alone, and if it wobbles and crumbles to the ground in millions of pieces, then, so be it, it is what it is; my conscience is clear, I have given it my all and everything, my best effort, and I tell myself that I at least had the heart to try.
For me writing is an essential act and is a visceral part of my being. It lives and breaths inside of me and moves me forward and feeds my soul, and helps to make me whole.
I am not particularly well read or educated, and you have never seen me on any lists, I have never been mentioned for awards or been critically acclaimed, and my writing has never been spoken about by anybody of importance, except for my close friends that is.
I hail from a poor and simple working class family and as such, I have tasted the bitter and crushing shame of poverty early on, and I have experienced every conceivable form of privation, from hunger to hand me downs and I learned early about sibling love and rivalry and the importance of sticking together, and that life can be a struggle, and then some. The brutality of existence entered early into my life and opened a hole in my heart which I have never been able to mend, and one of the consequences of that was that I was precocious in my development, and I became an adult before my time. That precipitation forged me into the hardened, taciturn and wary human being that I became and that I still am today.
I am plain spoken and direct and can be sometimes brutal as life was with me, and I have learned the hard way that nothing in life is really black or white, and that there is a hell of lot of grey in everything that moves, thinks, dreams, lives or dies. At this stage of my life I dwell only on one certainty, and that is that I am in love, in love with writing that is, because before writing in my life there was nothing, nothing of substance that is, and now, now I have this, and it is mine to own and to make what I want of it, and I intend to do just that, no matter what anybody thinks or doesn’t think, and no matter what will be broken or created. I believe stories can be transformative and are precious to our collective hearts, and that they help us on our journey and to make sense of our lives.
I have only one rule that I follow in my toils, yes toils, as I am not a natural talent, but one whose work has to be chipped at and slowly sculptured by endless hours, days, months and years of painstaking efforts and that rule is that I put my all and everything into the work at hand, and to make the result the best that I can make it, and then, when it is done, I let it stand alone, and if it wobbles and crumbles to the ground in millions of pieces, then, so be it, it is what it is; my conscience is clear, I have given it my all and everything, my best effort, and I tell myself that I at least had the heart to try.
For me writing is an essential act and is a visceral part of my being. It lives and breaths inside of me and moves me forward and feeds my soul, and helps to make me whole.
Copyright © 2006-2017 Ian Tremblay. All rights reserved.
