Once upon a time there was a little boy who liked Lord of the Rings.

He liked Lord of the Rings so much it changed his life. He changed his name. He changed his attitude. He changed his career choice. He planned to stalk Weta as soon as he was old enough to move.

In fact, he liked it so much he started to write little stories. Little stories about little boys finding themselves in Middle Earth. Usually with Autism, because Autism is clearly FTW.

And then he began to move on. He moved on to Original Fiction (where there were no self inserts, but plenty of pretty boys), and roleplaying (where there was only one self insert and he was clearly insane).

He grew up. He began to realise that his dream worlds were far less complicated and more interesting than the real world.

Finally, he became an adult. A bitter, twisted, probably insane, adult, who lolled at his past, but couldn't bare to let it go. Having trained procastination to a perfect point, he went back to stories half started many, many years before and went...

"LOL. That could actually work..."

And began, once more, to write.

(But now he suffers from procrastination and jobseeking, a deadly combination).