Why do we write? Because we like to read. Reading transports us to another world, which is the same as our everyday world, but somehow becomes magical by the very virtue of it being written down. Of course there are those to whom reading is an anathema and most certainly today’s world with its emphasis on audio-visual interaction would make them ever so distant from reading.

However those of us who know the thrill of being engrossed in a good read, and that includes most of us technology-challenged blokes born in the mid-sixties, would never ever countenance a world without books or at least good reading material. It is therefore the voracious, incorrigible, and compulsive readers who take up the pen, as so much reading willy -nilly leads to them developing a certain style of communication, which is in a way a condensation of all that they have been reading all their lives, and which they need to express for themselves and the world at large.

But the sad part is very few actually get down to doing it, and of those who do most of them lose steam very soon. The ones who persevere and actually write are the brave souls and if they achieve a modicum of success, it is a collective sense of joy for all those who would write but do not get around to doing so.