So I am writing again... not only that I am finding myself writing a lot, and when I am not writing I think about it. I think about it almost all the time and I feel like a ray of sun travelling through tunnels seeking a way out into the open. All I see is inspiration, all I feel is opportunities and ways to further develop. I guess that is what happens when the cocoon finally breaks. I have ignored or put aside, my deep attraction to this medium for so many years; my eagerness to put pen to paper without any preassumption about talent. The truth of the matter is that although (naturally) I would like to be considered talented it is not in fact my first priority. I do no think that people are in awe when they read my stuff and most of it needs a lot more work, something I generally do not support as a method once something is written. However, the therapeutic sense I get when I write or plot in my mind the next scene, does not hinge on the outcome in any way.

I still remember one of my first essays in school about Rain... I remember letting myself go and just let it pour all out and how the teacher reacted to this literary undertaking. She was surprised. So was I. And that was it, less than three decades later following 1 novel about 10 short stories, 2 plays and the conceptualisation of a TV series, 2 blogs and countless essays I still feel like that boy handing in his essay and waiting...