There was never a time in my life I wasn’t making up mad tales and then eventually putting them to paper, where my love for the idea turned into a love for the words themselves and then the craft and then combination of all three. What would I be if I wasn’t a writer? I have no idea.
Except this storm causes a problem. The drain sewers in the street are backing up and then they are shooting out, bubbling, gurgling fountains of rainwater gushing down from the sky and up from the ground.