My earliest memory of story writing was about a rabbit pulling a carrot from the ground. I was in first grade, and even drew a dramatic POP! as the carrot emerged.

I struggled in school, thanks to an undiagnosed case of ADD, and often fell behind. I was far behind on homework in fourth grade when I crossed paths with a long overdue assignment to write a story. When I finally put pencil to paper, the words and images flowed from me like they weren't mine. My hand moved of its own free will, barely able to keep up with my brain. I was hooked on story writing from that point on.

 

The next story I wrote went on to be published and win numerous local awards. Between the ages of twelve and sixteen, I wrote twenty novels.

 

I knew very early on in life what I wanted to do for the rest of my days. It wasn't until the last few years that I came to believe it is the thing I was placed on earth to do. That magic of feeling like a mere vassal to a greater power guides my stories, creates the messages that wish to be sent into the world. And that is why I write.

 

Now that I think back on it, I find that bunny ironic. My brain always ran like that little critter. It's a blessing now, because my mind generates more stories faster than I can write them. I'll never run out.

 

A blessing, I might add, that turned a learning disability into a super power.