Sir E. J. didn't stumble upon his true vocation as a writer, until late in life. Severely handicapped by an alcoholic stepfather, he set off on a crusade in search of the very soul he had lost to this ogre. Having found a close facsimile of her, out in nature, years later, he married her and began to raise a family. And so did he try his hand at various occupations, ever in search of the one that would satisfy the ache inside his heart. Only after an injury to his back had severely limited the field of possibilities, did he turn inward for guidance. There he finally heard the call to write. Basically, his only credentials are the openness with which a simple fisherman answered a similar call nearly two thousand years ago, a deep appreciation for the truth, and years of practice at writing down his own interior experiences in the journals he kept.