I don't know if I was always a lover of reading, but I was always a lover of books. I loved book stores and libraries. I loved holding a new book overwhelmed with the curiousity of what lie beneath it's worn cover. I loved the brush of old pages against my tiny child fingertips. I loved learning new things and being taken to new places. And I think this magical thing that I found in books inspired me to write. I wanted to know what it felt like to create... create some imaginary world. To play pretend and share it with readers all over the world. I wanted to be a character in a story and to be so consumed in a pencil and notebook that I had trouble seperating a fairytale from reality. And I did, ever since I could write I spent countless hours preconsumed with a peice of paper. I lacked friends and social skills and athletic ability. But I could write, and to me, that was- and still is, the only thing in the world that mattered.
