As a child I was a prolific writer and wanted to share my work with EVERYONE! I self published a book of poetry when I was 13. I sold enough to pay the printers and gave the rest for Christmas presents that year. I even titled the book "[my first name]". I don't know what happened. Now, I'm writing here using the name of my dog as a "handle" and hoping to rediscover the audacity of that young writer and temper it with the humility of this old one.