When I was fourteen, I wrote my first novel. It was a tale about a boy who could transform into a tiger. With the aid of his friends, the boy defeated an evil King. It was a pure and simplistic story of good versus evil, which reflected my mindset at the time. Looking back on it now, I would be forgiven for assuming it was written by a complete stranger. In many ways, it was written by a complete stranger, for I am not that person anymore. My concept of good and evil has changed dramatically and the answers I once sought are of no interest to me now. You see, the great thing about appreciating your own work, is that it gives you a chance to reflect on the many aspects of yourself. This includes past mindsets that you have since evolved away from or honed. Something about this excites me. I wonder what I’ll think of my current titles, ten years from now?