One of the reasons I took solace in writing from an early age is because I experienced myself as a social incompetent. Starting with my family of origin, and largely due to the mess of the situation I found myself growing up in, I found people generally difficult: I was always getting it wrong, saying the wrong thing, provoking unwanted reactions. I had things I wanted to say, but opening my mouth and saying them proved, on the whole, to be a terrible mistake, so I would go away to a quiet corner and write them down. And then rewrite them. Again, and again, until I got it right and had found a form of expression that could not be argued with. Like a poem. Or a story.
