It’s happening. I’m finally going to be an author! I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to know that all the blood (ketchup), sweat (salt), and tears (sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwiches) are finally paying off. Well, actually, I can tell you. It feels very amazing. No, let me rephrase: it feels very much amazing, a lot. Plus, I’m going to make very much amazing, a lot of money. But that’s not why I do what I do. The answer to that burning question (which every literary genius must ask themselves twice a day, every day, and have a New York Times Bestselling Author Mentor ask them every six months (and they better be ready to answer because if they haven’t been asking themselves twice a day, every day, they can bet their bottoms they will be thoroughly roasted by their mentor (mine is Clive Cussler (he’s a tyrant)))), “Why do I write?,” has an equally burning answer. But before we gather ‘round The Bonfire of Burning Answers, we must first gather The Kindling of Inspiration, which, of course, are located in The Forest of Subconscious – what’s that? You don’t care about any of this? You want to know what my book is about? Oh. Ok. It’s a children’s book called Can Cat Jump? It’s just pages and pages of drawings of Cat jumping, soaring through the air, and clawing my legs (he can, in fact, jump). Also, I haven’t actually written it yet. Nor do I have a publisher. But I am accepting pre-orders. Five bucks. If enough people give me five dollars I will write, illustrate, print, and ship Can Cat Jump? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat very much amazing, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.