For me, the inspiration to write is like a house cat. It will disappear from all thought for weeks on end and return at an inconvenient time with no regard for whether I actually want it or not. I may call myself a writer by nature, by accident, by compulsion, and so on, but the truth is that the reason for my passion for writing is immaterial. A dangerously voracious reading habit, a chance to have visited faraway places (on all seven continents), and a tugging feeling that none of this is enough, propels me to write, and write some more.
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