For as long as I can remember, I've been a writer. I wrote my first story in 5th grade, a bloody murder mystery complete with illustrations much to my teachers' (and I'm sure my parents') dismay. Showing flashes of an overwrought creativity even then, I went out of my way to find out what the word murder was in Spanish so that my title had panache. In high school, we kept a journal in 11th grade English. We had to write for 30 minutes a night. Most of my peers struggled to produce 5 paragraphs in the time while I routinely wrote 5 pages or more.

I've kept up with that journal off and on since then. I've also been reasonably productive when it comes to blogging. My blogs aren't terribly widely read but then, I'm not much for self-promotion, this website notwithstanding. But I have produced thousands of posts over the course of the Internet's lifespan.

I don't think I ever knew growing up that you could be an author, at least not at a conscious realistic level. Sure, people wrote books but those were "other people". I don't know when it first occurred to me that maybe I could be an author but it was certainly later in life than most. I am inspired by Malcolm Gladwell's essay on late bloomers. I am inspired by my friends and family who encourage me to write. And I'm inspired by that little boy who seemingly an eon ago decided he was going to write a murder mystery where everyone got killed. Including the good guys.