Why am I a writer? What do I write about? Does anyone really care?
I never wanted to be an author. But the profession kind of found me, because I worry too much, think too much, spin stuff around in my head. And my imagination seems to be and endless pool and its shores invite me to linger when I’m alone on my sofa. That’s my thinking place. Where I slay dragons with my words because the pen is mightier than the sword.