I've always been extremely proud of my family name. In the small communities of Russellville and Yell County, many people recognize my parents, my brother and/or myself. And when people recognize me or greet me and say, "Aren't you Tony's boy?," or, "You're Stevie's little brother, right?" I can always say, "Yeah, I am," with a smile and a stroke of pride.

At my high school graduation, I praised my parents for raising my brother and I in a stone-willed, hard working, honest family. We weren't perfect— as a matter of fact, we still aren't— but we grew up knowing how to make an honest living and be good people.

In a rural place like the Arkansas River Valley, kids grow up with parents that tend farms, run machinery and work in the few factories and plants. To be honest, few of us leave here. We grow up loving nature and small town living, and it's hard to abandon a "work hard, play harder" lifestyle in the backwoods.

Despite my upbringing, I've always considered myself the closest thing to a black sheep that exists in my family. I'm a nerd whose obsession with Harry Potter runs deep. I love the scent of an old book's pages. I think nothing is more satisfying than the scratch of pen on paper. I've aspired to pen my own creations since I was seven years old, and that plan is quickly unfolding before me.

For now, I work full-time at the same lumber mill that my dad worked at for more than two decades, and which my brother currently works at as a supervisor. I am a full time student and full time worker looking to the city lights and dreaming of publishing deals.

It's a hard task, working to break the bonds of an ongoing family tradition. Sometimes bonds are meant to be broken, but it hurts worse than expected. The one thing that small town kids need to remember is that they can always do what they love if they pour their heart and mind and sweat and tears into it.