I guess it was from an early age, at least my parents told me it was. I did it constantly. Anywhere, anytime on anything, I jotted down ideas that I returned to and reworked: moulding, honing. Book after book full of it. I can trace my life. Childish optimism, teenage angst, midlife fears. It sounds pretentious but it was a calling. Something inside me told me to do it. I didn’t have a choice. I had things that had to be said, things inside I had to express. It’s more than a hobby, it’s who I am. A content creator.