There was a sliver of time in my life, only 45 minutes or an hour,  that defined an important goal for my future. It was when James Michener visited my high school, and I had just finished reading his book, HAWAII. I had devoured it. The way Michener crafted his sentences, his finesse with description, his word choice, had dazzled me. So, when he walked on the auditorium stage and took the microphone, I was in awe. He was the perfect example of the cliche larger than life. The man seemed to own and eat up every inch of that stage. I clung to each word that came from his mouth. It was then I knew what I what I wanted to do one day. I wanted to be a writer. That didn’t happen until many years later when I had gotten to the point that I ached to fulfill my dream. I shuffled my priorities and took myself seriously. And finally, the magic happened. I became an author.