When I was eight, my mom took away my DSI. Instead of stomping around the house crying, I grabbed my whiteboard and wrote: “I’m not coming out of my shell till Christmas cause you r mean.”

Eight-year-old me was dramatic. My writing was misspelled, but it was still copy, and I’ve remembered it ever since.

I’ve been writing ever since, sometimes things a bit more dramatic (like losing my DSI), but mostly about ideas that truly matter.