There is something crazy about being a writer. No matter what you write, to you, it will never have the wonder it will have for the person who reads it. When an author writes something, it is hard for them to imagine how a reader will react. They know how they react, but they already know the ending. I like to try to write without knowing the end. To let my characters play out their own fates, fight their own battles. There are interesting plot twists that way. When characters can pick and choose pieces of the story you have laid out before them, when they can defy their predestined fates, when they win a battle they should have lost or lose a battle they should have won. It gives another dimension to the story. It allows for error, for freedom of expression, for beauty to leap from something ugly, and for a monster to rear its ugly head in the least expected place. There is something about putting a pen to paper, about allowing characters to form, that is crazy. We are a special breed, writers. And a dying one. Nobody else understands the fun we can have sitting all day and talking to fictional characters that exist only in our heads. We are insane, yes, but we can make a living off our insanity. Our insanity keeps us sane. Isn't that crazy?