Where to begin? I suppose you don’t really want to know the boring bits (my age and if you’re on my webpage then I’m assuming you know my name). I fell in love with writing the way one falls in love with breathing. You don’t quite notice it at first if you’ve always been able, but then one day everything slows down, and you take that one really big deep breath.
With it comes the scent of nostalgia and fresh vibrant air. You realize that you have been taking this beautiful thing for granted. How could I have been so blind? I could pick up a pen whenever I wanted and create something- anything. Even entire universes could be crafted on a blank page and that was something powerful, valuable, and miraculous. So I kept writing, cute stories, historical fiction, essays for school, poetry, songs, and whatever else I wanted. As long as my brain could fathom and dream; as long as I could pick up a pen, I wrote.
Recently I decided that wasn’t enough, somewhere along the way I had fallen in love with reading too. I suddenly desperately wanted to write a full book. I yearned to do for readers what my favorite authors did for me. Provide a haven, lull them into the story, and float them away to somewhere magical. So I wrote and it was just awful.
Did you know that of 80% of Americans that say they want a write a book and only 3% actually do it? Less than 1% are ever published. Well, I had always been an overachiever and I was determined to write something worthy of landing me among the 1%. So here we are. I have completed a manuscript, I’ve written a story that I truly believe in and I cannot wait to share it and very many others with all of you come publication day.
