Some things she had always known to be true and she could recall the age at which she could put words to them. At six she knew she was the same as the trees and the grass, as the birds and the swing set. At seven she knew she was a writer. What she disliked was that she had been making excuse after excuse and mistake after misstep for the 23 years since she had named herself what she was. She set about to change what she disliked one hour at a time.