Okay, so that’s not quite how it went.
I was far too practical when I was four to think about being a writer. And when I was fifteen, I knew this was where I was heading, but I had all sorts of safety jobs set up to make monies on the side, to, you know, eat while I did what I loved.
So what in the hell happened?
I really don’t know. I still like to think of myself as that practical girl who has her feet firmly on the ground. And I can talk my ass off about the business of writing. I make it sound very practical even. What do I do for a living?
I sell daydreams about trolls and hobgoblins for a living.
Because when you’re in love with a dream, you do crazy things to make it come true. And who lives life by what a four year old thinks? J
See you on the other side of the portal, everyone. We’re all practical lunatics here.