I believe I’ve mentioned before that I’m a perfectionist. I’m one of those people that would interrupt an important meeting just to straighten the crooked picture on the wall. When I see a wrinkle in my comforter on my bed I drop everything I’m doing to smooth it out. Just now I reached up to straighten my slightly askew lampshade. Yeah, I’m one of those people. So you can imagine what it’s like for me to try to write a book. Right now I’m well into a story that I’m thoroughly enjoying writing, but there’s still so many things just…

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I shudder at even the mention of rewriting. Ever since I knew what rewriting even was I ducked my head at the thought. Avoided it at all costs. Wallowed in anguish many an hour realizing I’ll never be a true writer because how could I ever rewrite? I spend so much time and work with first drafts, the idea of having to just scrap most of it and keep rewriting and rewriting and rewriting is enough to send me in depression. The fact that most people do not get published…

I write because there are countless stories within me wanting to be told. I write because I think words are both beautiful and powerful. I write because fictional people can sometimes make just as much of an impact as real people. I write because the adventurous spirit within me is free to fly when I’m weaving tales. I write because I’m a dreamer. I write because I love to explore new worlds. I write because my Muse tells me to. I write because I enjoy creating chaotic mishaps. I write because it allows my imagination to soar. I write because…