My bedroom as a child was a mess of bright colors, toys, and a hamster cage (minus the hamster). In addition to the expected mess of clutter and toys, there were papers strewn over my floor and Fisher Price desk, covered in big, fat loops and Crayola artwork: my first novels.

            I was a writer from the time I could pick up a crayon and make circles on a page, a string of fat cursive “L’s.” Nothing could stop me. Even though I knew reading and writing were “nerdy” and even though I couldn’t technically read or write, I was manic in my efforts to produce these books of fiction and poems. I learned then that doing something just to fit in (like wearing pink or lace) is not really worth doing at all. My greatest concerns at the time usually involved candy, stirring up trouble, or just having fun; and to me, creating these books was fun. I didn’t care if it was “nerdy” or “weird.” I mean, I played with flower arrangements in my spare time.

            Once I actually learned how to make letters, the scribbles and loops were quickly replaced with letters and words and other people could actually read my books.  As the years have passed, I’ve moved on to try non-fiction, essays, and even screenwriting. But I’m an old fashioned GI Joe-collecting, hamster-losing, flower-personifying kind of girl and that traditional side in me has remained faithful to my first love: Fiction. But no matter the type of writing, I do it because there is some story or feeling that needs to be expressed. And when words aren’t enough—well, there are always loops and pictures.