I am a writer. It's so comic. I can barely utter the words: I-am-a-writer, with a long shaky pause in between them, as if I wasn't going to make it to the next. I am a writer, and immediately after I say that, someone inside of me bursts out laughing, like: "yeah, fool yourself!" But I am!, I shout. I want to convince her and all those others so that I can convince myself in turn, that this is not only make-believe. I once heard the story of a man who had started building model boats when he was a tiny child. He went to school, did his homework, crafted model boats, had his college degree, found a job, moved on to recreational sailing ships. Just for fun, but he did. And then one day, he opened his eyes and his hobby had turned into a profession. It was not voluntary, although it really was. I mean, it was not premeditated. He simply got one commission, then another one, and before he knew what had hit him, he was a boat maker. What would you say of him? Would you call him a clerk, a doctor, a salesman? Because all I could think was that he had always been a boat maker, ever since his birth. He didn't know at the beginning, or perhaps he did. This is how i am a writer, how those others say I am a writer. I started out as soon as I could scribble two letters together. Even prior to that, when my Spanish teacher asked her class who would dare do a "line dictation" and I was the first to put my hand up. It seemed only logical, a natural step for me. The another boy followed. I remember it was the two of us sitting at our desks, listening and transcribing intently, while the rest of the 20 stood around us. It was not so much about getting it right as it was to be there.