I fell in love with words a long, long time ago.

 

All I wanted for my ninth birthday was a pencil sharpener in my room. I would spend hours upstairs in my little blue room filling notebook after notebook with stories, and wandering downstairs to sharpen my pencil seemed like the biggest travesty in the world at nine years old, especially when I had a novel to write. It has been obvious to me for a very long time that I wanted to be a writer. I had to be a writer.

 

The more I studied the written word, the harder I fell into every aspect of the craft — the writing, the editing, the design. And I loved the fall, with everything I had in me.

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Working with words has been the greatest and most fulfilling adventure of my life. Every day, I work to prove to the nine-year-old in the blue room that what she's doing is worth it. 

 

This is my story.