When I was a little girl one of the magics I discovered in this world was my father being able to write his own songs. I would sit with him and request for him to sing his original work over and over again. No, his writing never amounted to anything, you wouldn’t recognize his name and we most certainly never got rich from his hobby. But in truth I always felt as if I was behind the scenes; being filled in on the inner workings of a first addition of a great novel. In fact I loved it so much that when I was nine years old I decided that…