At a family gathering a while ago, my father went around asking each of us children about our dreams for the future. When my turn came, I confidently announced, 'I want to be a writer, Dad.'

His skeptical gaze pierced through me as he inquired, 'A writer?' Then, with a touch of disbelief, he added, 'Like... what's his name... Jessi Jois?' Perhaps he meant James Joyce.

I left that uncertainty with him, as in that very moment, I was born.