The entry point for any person to become a writer is unique to every person.

Some enter in their youth. Their stories splash on white pages like the work of an amateur watercolorist.

Others later in life, compelled by a haunting urge, sitting alone with what seems like an arthritic hand, must drag their pen across a blank page in search of what is hiding behind the veil.

Both become a writer in the practice of it.

Both can do little else.