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Like many writers, I was born among words. The offspring of two prolific readers who was read to and encouraged to create her own dragon’s hoard of books. When I was young, writing was a simple and often silly form of art that I found myself with a knack for, half done for fun, and half done because I was already finding stories I wanted to read that I couldn’t find in my limited reach. Even as my ability to find new things to read grows, and as I become more and more acquainted with the work side of writing, those two reasons have stayed close to my heart to this day.

But they haven’t been alone.Through my many writings over the years, I’ve explored new parts of myself, from bringing a fantastical, magical version of my self image to life in my first (unpublished and thankfully so) novel to exploring new interests, causes, and ideas. My identity as an artist, an independent thinker, a woman, and as someone of my sexuality. I explored my moral code, my opinions of other people and lifestyles, and those things I didn’t dare to or have the means to check out in person.

Writing, for me, has been both a way to venture into danger, and to touch the dangerous from the safety of my pen. Mad adventures, sexy affairs, quiet eternity. All could be touched, tasted, tested. When I started to publish erotic fiction as well, I could put on a pen-name like it was a mask to keep myself secret while attending some dark midnight masquerade. All without endangering my daytime name or revealing my true face.

For many, I think reading, especially in the case of science fiction and fantasy, is also a way to visit the impossible. Like going to a zoo or on a safari where dragons and giants roam and eat sugar cubes from your hand or lift you over enclosures. Exciting, exotic, thrilling, strange, yes, but controlled. Your path goes one direction, and you’re led along it. So, if reading is visiting along this path, then writing is owning the park, my hand on the reigns of that dragon, telling it where to fly and drawing the map for the giant to follow. As well as sometimes sending a knight into their paths, just to keep things interesting.

So to say why I write is to say I do it to live my own fantasies, and to invite everyone else into marvel. Fantasies of adventures, magic, mystery, love, and wonder. And, sometimes, I do it because the story I want to read? Hasn’t been written yet, and I’m not about to sit and wait for it when I have a pen in my hand.

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