I had my own line of comic books when I was eight. I’d work on them during school, especially when I was sitting in the hallway for being disruptive, which was pretty often.
They were made in those composition books with the black and white covers that everyone had, so they were more like graphic novels than anything else. The drawing was gawdawful and I’m sure the writing was bad too but one of my heroes was the Inedible Bulk, who hailed from Battle Creek, Michigan. He battled a villain called the Cereal Killer.

You have to remember what famous company is in Battle Creek. Then the joke becomes obvious.
My bent for satire was established even then.
I also did a ton of sportswriting and sportscasting. We listened to the baseball (and the football, and the hockey) on the radio in those days ( mid-late sixties). If the tv was on, I’d usually turn off Vince Lloyd and Jack Brickhouse, who I didn’t care for, and do the play-by-play myself (I don’t even remember who did the Bears and Hawks telecasts). I’d do imaginary interviews, and write them down on notebook paper.
The greatest thing about all of that is that later in life I got to meet and interview some of those same people.

Things are cyclical that way, even if the cycles are unpredictable as far as intervals go.

As a further example, I’m about a third of the way through my first graphic novel in 35 years. We’ll start to see some of it here at the planet next month.

Even that contains cycles within cycles. At about the time I was starting the aforementioned comic book empire, I was discovering the way to unknown Kadath, in the cold waste, and braving the gathering night-gaunts to ascertain just whose face it was that was carved on the slope of Ngranek.

Discovering HPL led to my first short stories. Searching out his work and the work of others who became linked to his work led to a lifetime of reading and writing.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Here’s a guest article I wrote that has more on this subject.