My writing journey doesn't begin with a whimsical calling from somewhere, begging me to write. It was a very abrupt demand to be let out. I can remember the title of my very first poem. There I stood, in 3rd grade holding, proudly I might add, a poem I wrote called Alligator, Alligator. I didn't know then that I was an author. I knew I wrote some words that rhymed and people liked it. 

As I got older, I scribbled short phrases on bits of paper, never bothering to keep them all together or organized. But then teachers started reading my work. Family started reading my work. And they said it was good. 

In middle school we were all excited for a field trip to the Baltimore zoo. Buses loaded up. My friends and I eagerly discussing which animal we were most excited to see. Only to get there and not be admitted. It was there on that hard concrete that I write a poem called, One Damn Monkey! In it I lambasted the zoo for keeping poor defenseless children away from such an experience. "We just wanted to see one damn monkey!" I declared, scribbling angrily on the ripped piece of paper I managed to find in my pocket. "The bastard could even be dead. With one eye open and fur turned to lead. We just wanna see one damn monkey."

I shared it with my classmates who laughed so loud it drew the attention of a teacher. Afraid that I would get in trouble for the foul language, I hid it. But with coaxing and assurance that I was free to share my thoughts and wouldn't get into trouble, I gave a performance that should have earned me a Golden Globe. 

And then I knew. And then I listened. And the characters came to me. I enjoyed the experience of creating worlds and people and relationships from scratch and seeing them come alive on paper. 

So. Whoever you are. If you have strung words together in a phrase... a rhyme... a sentence... a blurb. And you can see a world clear as day. And you have characters popping up out of no where, you're supposed to be a writer. 

Peace.