Snow covered road on a bright winter day.

Long before I pieced together words to create my first story, I was absorbing them — quietly, hungrily, reverently, page after page, book after book. Reading taught me how to listen. Writing taught me how to speak. If reading is stillness, then writing is movement. It’s the act of reaching into the quiet contemplations and pulling something out — something raw, something true, something that might tremble in the light. Writing is how I make sense of what I’ve read, what I’ve

Long before I became a writer, I was a reader. These are the truths about reading I have experienced. In a world of constant bombardment that rarely slows down, reading offers something radical — stillness. By picking up a book, you immerse yourself in a different world filled with characters outlined by the author but brought to life by your imagination. You embark on a solo journey, taken at your own pace, at a time and place of your choosing. But reading is not just entert

I’m a nerd. My glory days were long days and nights spent in the soft glow of computer screens, eating greasy take out, rarely sleeping....