I don't remember when it started, but for more than thirty-five years I've been an author. Whether it's software, articles, fiction, commentary, music, painting, sculpture, documentation, woodworking, architecture, drawing, email, or even blog entries, I've spent the majority of my waking hours authoring in different mediums. The purpose of what I author are myriad. I've spent a lot of time with my head in books, going to conferences and lectures, and since the web appeared, researching by browse and search. I constantly cross-fertilize original ideas with what I learn from others and put down my thoughts, relentlessly. I don't know why, but upon introspection, that is what I do.
Looking back over more than three-quarters of my life, I see now that what I produce is all the same type of stuff. Sure, the engineer in me does math, the artist in me draws and sculpts, the writer in me types, but it's all effectively authoring. Some of the work I do for others, some for myself, but all with the passion of starting with a clean sheet and making something new. Though I've never really put myself in the category of an author, examining what I've really been doing has now defined me.
As I sit in front of my keyboard and look around at bookcases full of other's works, listening to music others have composed, being drawn into the painings other have made, and photographs others have taken, I'm humbled. I'm certainly not a great author, but I do feel a kinship of sorts with these folks.
I've truly become what I've eaten, and my appetite has grown more ravenous through the years. For better or for worse, I am what I am. The revelation is exciting and it stirs me. Though I don't know what's next, I am happy to have finally lifted the edge of the veil and seen more about myself. I am Dave, an author.