I knew I wanted to be a writer since third grade. That was when I wrote my first poem, and my first couple stories. The poem, which I will not inflict on you, was decent for a seven year old, and written on my own for my own enjoyment. The stories were a school assignment that I ended up enjoying a little too much. Assigned to write a Halloween story, and inspired by a Pez dispenser I had in my pocket, I wrote a story about a little white bunny meeting a bat. The next month, when I had to write a Thanksgiving story, the little white bunny discovered a magic cornucopia. Yes, I knew what a cornucopia was in third grade, though I’m positive I mis-spelled it. By then, I was hooked. I had plans. That little white bunny could meet Santa Clause, maybe find a leprechaun… I don’t remember if I actually wrote any others, and the ones I did write are long lost.
But there are a few things that can be determined even from my earliest writings. I had a predilection for series, I loved speculative fiction, and my vocabulary outstripped my spelling abilities. Not one of those has changed. You may not find any little white bunnies in my current stories, but you will find dragons; emus or mentions of them; people who just want to live their lives, but reality has suddenly changed on them without warning; and new worlds to explore. Some may look very similar to ours, and some are very different. But I hope you enjoy anyway.