In the back of my mind was the constant hankering, almost yearning, to write but something always stopped me in my tracks. Or if I did find my way to put a pen to paper or finger on a keyboard I'd give up after a few minutes. I'd find other things to do: Anything but writing.

Reading Stephen King's book, On Writing, was like being cornered and forced to have a long, drawn out mental enema.

My biggest excuse to others and myself was that I had writer's block, as if it was some kind of illness.

It was not uncommon for the children to be told they were being treated this way because it was their bad karma and they must have hurt a child in a past life.