Not so many years ago, the nuns at a small Catholic school in Williamsburg, Virginia told my mother I was a slow child. They told her that, in adulthood, I would be suitable for simple tasks of the sort that wouldn't require me to think too hard. They'd never heard of dyslexia, and we hadn't either. No matter, I suppose that many of the best stories are elegantly simple, beautiful not for the precision of the tool used to create them but the overall strength of their outcome. So I wrote when I wasn't supposed to. And, I've loved telling stories for as long as I can recall. I've loved drawing them, too. Both art forms, separate and combined, have never stopped amazing me. I was never supposed to do this for a living, but I have. It hasn't always been easy, but I have done what I chose to do. Maybe that's why I am so passionate about it.