I always wanted to be a writer. When I was an unhappy teenager, I used to write up in the attic in a little alcove on a maple desk. Every night, without fail, and with relish, I would write about ten pages, filling both sides. I fell into a better filing system than I've ever had since. I just placed one written page after another face down in a drawer that was just the right size to hold the pages neatly. But wanting to be a writer wasn't the only thing going on in my life or occupying my thoughts. So this is not so big as it sounds now.

As years of writing went by and my writing was not so overtly autobiographical as it had been, my greatest lack was in plotting. I had even said, "If only someone could give me a plot and tell me what to write." I didn't mean dictation, of course, but, look, here I am now, taking dictation from the Storyteller of All Time.

Once, while I was writing a story, it was like another voice took over. This one time it was like the story was writing itself. It knew before I did what it was going to say next. It was about someone named Ursula, and I think she was a nun or later became a nun, and the story took place in another country, I believe. In the midst of this, I made myself stop because I had an appointment, and I never was able to pick up that story where it had left off. Of course, I have sometimes wished I hadn't stopped and I wonder what the rest of the story would have been.