When I was a child, I had a host of "invisible friends." They left me around age 12, but they didn't go far. Many years later, I realized they were actually characters of stories I needed to write. It was only recently, and because of self-publishing, that I took their stories seriously. When I write I see them, hear them, laugh with and at them and occasionally shed their tears. Reality is overrated. I hope my writing helps others escape its gnarly claws if only for a short while.