While I have been a writer for years (meaning she who writes), besides a brief stint in college where I wrote an Editorial Column, I have shied from publication. The closest I have come since college is a blog that I started two years ago. I watch the progression of my own writing through this blog and can see the growth rings of each lesson learned along the way. I’ve put in work in on the craft I love. I try daily to figure out what I say best and how my worldview will be worthwhile to my readers. I walked into this writing thing claiming I wanted to be a female Stephen King. But how do I mean? his success? his prolific career? his scary stories? heartfelt tales? supernatural stirrings? insanely long? Maybe a little of all of the above.

I know what I am not. I am not a romance writer, though romance does creep in from time to time. I can’t seem to write anything in the sci-fi realm, which makes sense since I rarely find a sci-fi book I can get into. I, like Neil Gaiman, cling to stories about women who save themselves which is one of my favorite character-driven story directions. I find that I am still learning what pushes my writing to the surface and how to manicure it just so. Ultimately, even if I write something for myself, I also write in the hopes that it will be read and devoured by hungry eyes… ingested and enjoyed by a cozy little book worm.