I have always been a reader. I was reading the King James Bible at 3. I carried a book wherever I went. I read in the car. I read while I was walking. I read to my sister. I read before I fell asleep. I read the same books over and over. I loved books and the places they could take me.

I never considered writing. That was for talented people with gifted minds.

Then I read a book about dragons. Something about it’s storytelling was simple and direct. I suddenly thought I can do this! All of my early novels were uncompleted and filled with dragons. I coaxed my sister to join in too. Together we mapped our own worlds and fought wars through typed words.

The novel-dreams faded into essays for schoolwork. One of the best stories I wrote was for a class. My teacher instructed us to write in detail about a simple, everyday task. Do not leave one thing out! She even went through our lists step by step to see if she could accomplish the chore without any previous knowledge. 

I wrote about washing the dishes. I turned it into a sarcastic, charming guideline that would allow even an alien foreign to our world to completely clean his tableware. It made my father laugh. 

I grew up and the stories fell forgotten. Now and then, I would pull up a word document and type out the beginning of a novel. Then close it. Story ideas swam in my head but never settled. They always flicked out of view once I tried to focus on them. I was constantly seeking The Idea. The story plot that I could dedicate real time too and craft into my masterpiece. 

I still haven’t found it. 

So I dedicate myself to writing here, to cultivate my writing. So that when The Idea comes to me, I will have the skill to fix it to paper.