In high school, I wrote a story in creative writing called "Faster Please." The teacher wrote as a comment not to share my work with anyone else, to prevent the two of us from getting into trouble.
My wife reminded me of that story I showed her in twelfth grade. She said she knew then I was going to be a writer someday. We are now married and together we are being raised by two cats, a pure White American Snowshoe, Cup Cake, and an Abyssinian, Muffin.
So here I am, just as you may be one day, considering writing or at least reading a novel. The experience is like nothing else, except waiting for a child to be born. You will be tortured and perplexed about how you are going to complete this journey you have decided to embark on. But in the end, when the nurse brings you the baby, the one with the waxed color cover and your name on the front, will you truly feel immortal and have justified your existence.
Write him at firstname.lastname@example.org
He would love to hear where you would like Nicci and Jordin to travel next.