I knew from a young age that I wanted to be a writer. It started with reading. I loved losing myself in words more than anything. Comics, cereal boxes, instructions–it didn’t matter. If there were words on the page, I read them.
Growing up, the library was my sanctuary and books my refuge. I knew words had power–they’d been used against me often enough by that time. When I felt as if I didn’t belong to my family or in my own skin, the fantastical worlds created by writers welcomed me, fired my imagination, diverted my attention, gave me dreams and hope and a way out.