At a very early age, I knew I would write novels because I loved reading books. I had a huge pile of Dr. Seuss and "I Can Read" books. Each day I took the pile and read through them, sometimes seeing how fast I could read the stack, and eventually I knew them by heart.
The first time my mother took me to the library, I was mesmerized at the shelves stocked full of wonderful books. I loved books so much that once I had read one, I attempted to write it down on paper so I could read it again later. However, that daunting task bored me, so I began writing my own stories.
In first grade, my teacher, Mrs. Brown, had a closet filled with thick storybooks. She allowed me to take one home each day. Rather than watch cartoons, I sat down and read the books straight through. I did this each day until I had read every book in that closet.
So I used a small corner of my dresser to write my stories and draw my comics. I loved having that creative flow when ideas came, and I obliged my muse by writing them out on pages. Writing is sometimes a lonely endeavor, especially if the flow is broken or not moving, but I find this time of isolation to be enriching. I love when I don't know what is about to happen in my novel, and suddenly, out of thin air, the crisis is solved.
Somehow, long ago, my destiny was established by introducing me to my muse. I'm grateful this is my path and journey. I'd love for you to follow the works that drop along the way.