My only desire is that what I write is available for others to read. My mind is an endless puzzle that I have never been able to understand. I cannot write on one endless rant to finish each book. I cannot commit my mind to anything but the ideas bouncing around inside. For this reason I jump around a lot. I leave things unfinished. I am not any where near to being a good writer. I just need to play out each story, each tale, each life.