I understood what he meant entirely. Writing was always at the core of my life. I wrote thousands of pages during my youth, which I kept in giant binders that no one was allowed to read. I tried to publish from an early age, starting with (gasp) Harlequin Romances. When I was older, and going through some health difficulties, I escaped from it all through hours spent at my computer. I couldn't stop myself from writing.
If only I had figured out sooner what Picard's son figured out. Maya Angelou is right: the stories within poke and prod at the soul until they can flow from brain to fingers to screen (or paper). If I had just realized that, I would have found myself on a very different life path.
But at the same time, it's okay that I followed a somewhat meandering route. It makes the stories more interesting.
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