Every writer needs a good story to tell.
So here was my problem: I had nothing to write about because nothing exciting had ever happened to me. Seriously, nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Diddly-squat. You’d think that someone who grew up on four different army posts in eleven years would’ve witnessed at least one exciting thing. Yeah, you’d think.
My life = boring.
Then we moved from Maryland to New York City, and my new neighbour tried to blow up the building.