I began to be a writer in the same way I climbed up on this platform: I was coerced.
I confess I did all I could not to attend this assembly: I tried to get sick, I attempted to catch pneumonia, I went to the barber, hoping he'd slit my throat, and, finally, it occurred to me to come here without a jacket and tie so they wouldn't let me in . . . but I forgot I was in Venezuela, here you can go anywhere in shirtsleeves. The result: here I am, and I don't know where to start.
But I can tell you, for example, how I began to write.