You could say that my journey as a writer began at my family's breakfast room table. Like many beginning their days, I would sit down to either the local paper's sports section or the Sunday funnies – always with my trusty cup of black coffee. This was routine until one day, my dad asked a question which forever changed my perspective.
"Son," he said, "if you have any short stories or school papers for sharing, would you leave them on the breakfast room table so that I may enjoy them before work?"
I suppose my younger self had underestimated a key component of my craft: we write for the individual on the other side of the pen, and therefore we must seek new ways to ink bridges between people. Creativity is the peak of human expression, but what good is it if it is not used to elevate our interconnectedness?
