Then the next thing I knew I'd become an author.
I mean I'd always wanted to. I'd even started a few times, writing a chapter here and there destined to rot away, unseen by anyone, on old media that likely no one even has a drive to read anymore. Words. Trapped. In a prison of ancient magnetic media. I can only hope that one day our civilization isn't judged by those silly fragments of thought that I now imagine might never see the light of day. What strange notions might my, or other authors, worlds lead future visitors to the remnants of this planet (if any are left in existence) to believe about how we once lived?
I've told tales before, and there is few things more satisfying than seeing someone, granting you moments of their life, hanging on your every word like they actually matter.... for without an audience are you really an author? So today, I Thought, Today is the day. Today is the day that I would be come a published author. If you are reading this you now have become a part of that reality.
Just like that, I have entered the realm of authors, and if I, who have been a member of the Procrastinators Club for 20 years (and fyi: we have yet to have our first meeting, it keeps getting postponed) can finally put finger to touchscreen, Webnovel words written in inkstone, then you can be one too.