Growing up, I always knew I wanted to be a writer.  I was such an avid reader, it just made sense.  My mind naturally turned to stories and I invented whole worlds.  I could see the fantastic places, hear the voices of the characters.

Hearing voice is not considered healthy in most professions.

I tried to drive the imaginary friends away, tried to tell them I didn’t want to hear their stories, and for a few years I was successful.  But they kept coming back.

Eventually I admitted I had to write and I dove into the process, not caring how long or hard or difficult it might be.  That proved I was in the right frame of mind to become a writer.  I absolutely love the process of exploring my own little worlds and actively seeking out those voices that I alone could hear.  And even though some people look at me funny when I tell them I write fiction novels, this is the one career where you’re supposed to hear voices, where it’s all right to carry on conversations with yourself for days at a time.

I have so many people to talk to, I could sit silent for days just listening.

But even better than exploring worlds of imagination, I love it when I can bring those worlds to life for other people.  I love talking with someone who has read one of my stories, looking them in the eye and seeing their excitement as they discuss a scene or a character that they felt a particularly powerful connection with.  They heard the voices and they saw the scenes.

The story came alive for them.

Those are the moments that encourage me to keep writing, keep striving to improve my craft to bring these stories to life.  It’s incredible to think that a few marks on a page can trigger visions of unseen worlds and make real the personalities and relationships of people who never existed anywhere except inside my head.  A lot of people love a good story, but not everyone is a storyteller.

I am.

A little crazy I may be, but I’m loving the journey and I’m bringing a lot of other people along for the ride.