I have always yearned to be an author. When I was little, I loved writing books. The “books” were really just notebook papers secured together with Scotch tape and had a chapter per page. The spelling and grammar were ugly, and the stories made no sense. But to my five- or six-year-old self, they were the most awe-inspiring books on Earth.

As I got older and learned more and more about grammar and even took English, I realized how horrid my first efforts at writing books truly were. How in the world could I have even thought those insignificant, one-chapter-on-each-page books were grandiose? The first books were total bombs, and even though I took English and learned all the grammar my brain could hold, they were still pretty awful. Still one chapter per page, still taped together with flimsy Scotch tape.

Then I took to reading. I pored over mystery stories, adventure stories, fanfictions, allegories, and Christian fiction. But my greatest interest was Kirby. I decided to work in that particular area and turn a charming game into a Christian fiction manifesto. I wanted to strive hard to truly be a great author.

But the question I often ask quiz myself on is: Why do I write?

It took me a while to come up with an answer, but then I finally perceived.

The reason I write is straightforward: I love to write. I enjoy writing. I have a passion for writing. I believe God has called me to write. I am not like C.S. Lewis or Carolyn Keene, but I have my own unique style of writing.

So as long as I am alive and breathing, I will try my best to make great book(s).

Especially if it involves Kirby.