Many, many years ago, when I was still young and starry-eyed I dreamed of becoming an author. The type of author who wrote the books that I loved. The kind of author I fiercely admired. But then other stuff happened, and reality set in. Even if I did do a different course at university, even if I did work in something related to writing i.e. journalism, editing, etc, I'd never really have a talent for writing the kind of books I wanted to write. I can't even tell a story or a joke verbally much less make a coherent story last 300 plus pages. At some point I thought, maybe if I had enough life experience, then I'd have something to write about. (Yeah, life experience, what is that anyway?) Then I realised, there was nothing unique about my existence to make it worth writing about, and certainly not special enough for anyone to invest money in it. Sure, maybe my life is interesting to me sometimes, or to certain relatives and friends, but one cannot base a career on that. At