At four, I dictated my first short story to my dad before my hands were coordinated enough to hold a pencil. My coordination is still questionable. My determination to tell a good story remains just as strong as that spunky four-year-old’s.
Somewhere along the way, those early stories grew into secret academies, lost worlds, mermaid curses, dangerous recipes, and characters who refuse to stay inside the roles their worlds chose for them.
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