I am a math/science/wood-shop teacher during the day but a consummate dreamer by night.  I have NO clue how my books have gotten written (this is now number 10).  I feel that I am more of a conduit to the literary powers in the pyschosphere than an actual author.  Call it fate, divine intervention, or flashbacks from a misspent youth but it all amounts to the same thing.  I often look at my books after they are written and wonder, "What lunatic wrote this?"    A disembodied voice always replies the same way, "You did."