Ahh. You'll remember this paper well, yes? How recently it seemed to have been.

But enough of nostalgia. I'm here to remind you of who you were ten years ago, on this very day... I want to be a writer. A writer of stories fantastic that will blow people out of their chairs just because my writing has meaning, in some form or another, to my unknown audience. I'm starting with Haraan. By the time you read this, he'll have become a balanced, respectable individual on both sides of the fourth wall, and you'll have landed a landlslide of book deals (but plagues on your head if you've become a hack!). The satisfaction, however, will lie in the knowledge that what you've written will not be relegated to doorstopping but will continued [sic] to be read by your children's children (how old's your first? One? Two?). It won't be the SoCal home on the oceanfront, or the millions you'll have made. I hope that, even ten years after this letter, you still go with friends (not too often, to please the wife) to Barnes & Noble or someplace else to concept stories and ideas.

If, however, the writing profession hasn't borne fruit, so it goes. You're still smart enough to have made a difference in some other field -- I see computing or game design in your future -- you may be a musician, or an architect of golf courses. You remember, TWENTY years ago, that little notebook with the meerkat and the dozens of course designs within it. Maybe writing has gone the way of that notebook, but doubtlessly there's still some creative spark to be found within you.

So many things to jam into this letter...

You'll be one hell of a family man. I'm planning three kids, as one's lovely, and two stifle each other. Family first! It's tragic, but adulthood isn't so lenient with friend time. Your family will BE your friends, so instruct them pragmatically and patiently, but never be seen as the pontificator. If it means hopping off the psycho-sriber to play monster with whoever your kid is, do it. Buy them everything, but make sure they understand responsibility, and have proven they can handle the occasional spoiler. Give them everything you have, even if you feel you'll die trying -- having done a good job, you'll be rescued, no doubt. You've always craved conversation and company, so enjoy what you do have, and every now and then, when you've saved up, give your family a nudge in some different direction. And always, ALWAYS, be humble. Remember Dad's rules: 1. Be humble. 2. Love yourself. And three: listen to others. My fourth: have a catchphrase.

And finally, never lose that sense of wonder. Cynicism is base and common, so look for the positives. Use that energy to start new projects -- Sosara isn't the only book out there for you. There will always be another story to tell -- and who knows? You might like it better than Heritage. I remind you that your hero was Hayao Miyazaki, God rest his soul -- and let him assure you that life is a treasure, no matter how you choose to pen it.

I will see you on the flip side.

Cheers,
You