As a kid I got called out for daydreaming a lot. Reading was (and remains) a favorite pastime, so of course I'd rather conjure up worlds of mighty dragons, dashing heroes, and conniving villains than, oh, say, diagram a sentence or explain why the author calling the curtains blue mattered. Some of these imaginary jaunts made it onto paper. Eventually those ideas were combined into a story. It stunk, and Mr. Bakker, the English teacher, was kind enough to not say it outright when I showed him, but there was promise. It took ten years, a graduate degree in Software Engineering, copious quantities of brainstorming, some gentle prodding, and more false starts than a twitchy offensive line, but here we are. Better late than never. In those rarified moments when I'm not spaced out in worlds of my building, I'm usually roving around in someone else's. Nose deep in a book, smooshing zombies, or rolling dice on a disadvantaged charisma check, so long as the imagination is alive, the fun does not stop.