I always had an urge to write. My diaries gave my everyday life a certain sense and importance that was lacking otherwise. Following the same logic, the aesthetics of poems (I wrote since I was six years old) helped represent a deeper self that could communicate better with the world. But this is a sort of rationalization. So instead of continuing it, I’ll tell why I wrote my first flash in 1998. At the time, it should be noted, the word “flash” was more familiar in relation to Flash Gordon, a silly TV series, than to anything literary, but as most writers know, now it means a short short story. The Internet entered my home in 1998, back when you had to wait through strange telephone sounds until connecting with it. Within a day, I was chatting (typing) with people from all over the world, an upgrade of having pen-pals.Peter from Canada, an older man, was a beach comber and a reader according to him. We exchanged life stories, and I introduced my whole family to him. He was a loner.One day, as we chatted, he said he’d make coffee and come back later. In the meantime, I felt like writing something to surprise him-fun but profound, whatever comes to my mind but with style. So I wrote about a woman who could fly.Peter didn’t disappoint me. He even sent the flash to his friends and afterwards told me they’d like to see more, and gave me their emails. I wrote another one and sent it. And then, I started sending a flash every week or two to about ten people. Sometimes I received an email from someone new. Steven from Australia offered to set a page in Geocities, where I’d be able to post my stories.These were the best days: spontaneous, unafraid writing, with fire of discovery and passion. I had to work on my English and on my technique, learn how to publish and how to take rejection, but the stories kept coming. And I never stopped.