Okay, so sue me. I used the word, 'crazy' to describe someone who is mentally ill. I feel entitled; I've been referred to as crazy for most of my life. The symptoms of my mental disorders manifested themselves early on. I started reading when I was three, and I wrote my first story when I was five. It was incredibly primitive, but my grandmother saved it until she died. It was all about a trip to the zoo, and I painfully listed the animals and spelled the words I memorized on each plaque.

But, most of my family wasn't as impressed with my 'talents' as my grandmother. I always asked questions -- and I rarely could sit still. That was the good days; there were other dark days when I threw tantrums, wouldn't eat, and walked around the house mumbling.

In the research I've done over the years, it turns out I'm not so special -- many creative people suffer from mental disorders. Some say it's just the price one pays to tap into the deep recesses of the brain. And to be honest, the temper tantrums didn't end with my childhood; I was plagued by drastic mood swings well into my thirties. By that time, I was formally diagnosed and medicated