When I was about 12 years old, I told my doll a story about a horse, giving birth under a thunderstorm. I had my first short story, published at the Youth page at our local newspaper already when I was 10, thanks to my Dad, a writer and a journalist. I clearly remember how my storytelling seemed to just flow from within, with very little effort. The same applied for all my essay writing in school, and most of the time also in my profession as a copywriter, or when I speak. I just write. But what is it for?
After I was removed by ICE in 2012 and thus returned to live in Sweden, I questioned whether I should write fiction or non-fiction. A relevant fear popped up: What if someone would actually try to commit the very crime I pondered about making up, for a book or movie? I decided not to, and chose to tell reality based experiences instead, first on a blog and then into the book "The Call for Divine Fathering". I hope I did the right thing.
To change the world, we must be real.