Okay, I confess. I write books. I knew I would since courting my wonderful wife. My qualifications? Fascination with the sky beckoned me. A multifaceted career as a professional pilot positioned me. Life as a husband and father gave me empathy. Living as a Christ follower gave me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to do whatever he asks.

But, much like flying, writing is an addiction for which there is no cure. The best you can hope for is remission. And, if by some misfortune, you see that chance approaching, hide, and the ridiculous notions of abandoning either pursuit will pass you by.

On the other hand, writing, even more than flying, relegates one to a largely solitary lifestyle. So, this week, I’m stepping out. You’ll find me at the annual Idaho Writer’s Guild conference rubbing shoulders, ideas, and dreams with other word nerds. See you next week.