The Journey So Far: How I Became an Author

If you had told seven-year-old me that one day I would be writing novels for a living, I think she would’ve stared at you wide-eyed, hugged her stuffed animal tighter, and asked if she could write a story about it. Because in many ways, the seeds of my author life were planted long before I ever realized storytelling was something people could choose to do—not just something magical that appeared on the page.

Looking back, the path feels winding and inevitable all at once. Every twist in my childhood, every strange dream, every notebook crammed into a drawer—they all led me here. Not in a straight line, but in a steady pull toward writing, toward the kind of stories that kept my imagination buzzing long after the lights went out.

This is the journey so far. The beginning of how I became an author—and why I can’t imagine doing anything else.

Where It All Began: A Mom, a Bed, and Harry Potter

My earliest memories of stories aren’t of holding books myself, but of being held by them.

I can still picture my mom sitting beside me on her bed, a hardcover copy of Harry Potter open in her hands, her voice weaving magic into the air. I didn’t know it at the time, but those nights—those hours spent listening, leaning closer every time she paused to turn the page—were the foundation of my love for reading.

There was something sacred about the ritual. The anticipation. The familiarity of my mom’s voice. The feeling that the world we lived in faded away, replaced by castles and spells and friendships that felt as real to me as anything outside our front door.

That’s when I learned that books aren’t just stories—they are doorways.

And I loved stepping through them.

As soon as I could read on my own, I devoured anything I could get my hands on. Fantasy books, especially. If it had magic, I was there. If it had a mysterious prophecy, even better. I didn’t read to escape real life—I read because I believed wholeheartedly that adventure was out there somewhere, and books were the closest I could get to touching it.

Before long, reading wasn’t enough. I wanted to create my own worlds, too.

Junior High: The Dream That Started It All

I can trace the actual beginning of my writing journey back to one very specific night in junior high.

I had a dream about a teenage girl running through a forest. It was one of those dreams that feels like a movie with characters who walk right off the edge of sleep and into your waking mind. The second I opened my eyes, I knew I needed to write it down. Not later. Not after school. Now.

So I grabbed a notebook.

That notebook turned into another notebook. Then another. I filled them with handwritten stories—entire novels scribbled on lined pages, complete with questionable plot twists, dramatic character arcs, and handwriting so messy I still struggle to decipher it.

None of those stories will ever see the light of day, and honestly, that’s a mercy. But they were my training ground. My playground. The first place I learned how much I loved creating worlds from scratch, building magic systems, sketching maps, designing characters whose fates I could decide with nothing but a pencil and imagination.

I wasn’t thinking about “becoming a writer.” I wasn’t thinking about publication, or career paths, or the future.

I was writing because I couldn’t not write.

Storytelling had lodged itself into my bones.

College: A Detour That Brought Me Back

By the time I reached college, writing felt like a passion—but not a career. I believed I needed to do something “practical,” so I found an acceptable substitute where I could still practice the act of storytelling but in a different way. I enrolled in a degree program in 3D animation.

And for the record, I loved it. Animation taught me how worlds are built from the ground up—how lighting changes mood, how environment shapes character, how storytelling is a craft that extends far beyond the written word. It deepened my understanding of visual narrative in a way I still use today, especially when designing settings, magic systems, or even envisioning book covers.

But I soon realized that breaking into that industry could be even harder than breaking into the publishing industry. It would require a lot more training than the university gave me, long hours working my way up the ladder, and wouldn’t be conducive to a life outside of my career.

Somewhere along the way, about a year before I graduated, writing found me again.

It began quietly. I’d open a blank document between classes just to “jot down an idea.” Those ideas became paragraphs. Paragraphs became scenes. Scenes became drafts.

The more I wrote, the more I realized something: my heart belonged to storytelling, not just world-building in a technical sense. Animation gave me skills—but writing gave me breath.

By the time I graduated, I wasn’t just writing for fun anymore. I was writing because it felt like coming home.

2019: My First Published Novel

After graduation, I finally faced the truth I had known since childhood: I wanted to be an author.

But wanting and doing are two very different things. Publishing felt like a mountain, and I had no road map—only the stubborn determination that I’d already come too far to stop now.

So I did the only thing I could: I kept writing.

In 2019, I took the leap and published my first novel.

Holding that book in my hands—seeing my name printed on the cover—was surreal. It was a moment that blended pride, vulnerability, and a rush of “Oh wow, I actually did this.”

That book wasn’t perfect. No debut is. But it was mine. It was the culmination of years of dreams, scribbles, revision, doubt, and stubborn hope. It was the first real doorway I ever built—a doorway other people could step through.

And once I opened it, I didn’t want to stop.

(Soon To Be) Eight Books Later…

Since that first publication, I’ve written and published seven books, with the eighth coming out next week.

Every time I hit “publish,” I’m struck by how each story feels like both an ending and a beginning. Writing a book is a journey—full of discovery, frustration, joy, and sometimes sheer chaos—but publishing is a gift. It’s letting go. It’s sharing something deeply personal and trusting that readers will connect with it in their own way.

Eight books is a milestone I’m immensely proud of, but more than anything, it represents persistence. Growth. A steady unfolding of who I am as an author.

Each book has taught me something new:

• How to write characters who feel real.

• How to weave plot threads that twist and collide.

• How to build magic systems that are both wondrous and grounded.

• How to craft emotional arcs that resonate.

• How to believe in a story even when it terrifies me.

  
  

And how to believe in myself.

Why Fantasy?

People often ask why I switched from clean romantic suspense (like my ESI series) to writing fantasy.

The simplest answer is this:

Because nothing else feels as alive.

I love a good love story, and I will always weave them into my novels, no matter the genre. But fantasy lets me build worlds from the ground up—places shaped not just by history, geography, and politics, but by imagination. I love creating settings where danger and wonder walk hand-in-hand, where ordinary people rise to extraordinary challenges, where magic isn’t just a system but a reflection of emotion, power, and consequence.

Fantasy gives me room to explore themes that matter deeply to me:

• identity

• courage

• destiny

• sacrifice

• resilience

• the blurry lines between light and shadow

  
  

It lets me ask big questions within the safety of a fictional world—questions about who we are, what we fear, what we love, and what we’re willing to fight for.

And honestly? It’s fun. I love imagining things that would never be possible in real life: storm-born twins who can bend the weather, cursed forests that whisper warnings, rebellions sparked by prophecies, enchanted blades forged with secrets, worlds carved from rain or fire or starlight.

Fantasy is limitless. And that’s exactly what captured me as a kid listening to Harry Potter and still captures me today as an author crafting new universes.

What I’ve Learned Along the Way

Becoming an author hasn’t been a straight path. It hasn’t been fast, and it certainly hasn’t been easy.

But here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Stories grow with you.

The novels I wrote as a teenager are unrecognizable compared to what I create now—and that’s a good thing. Every stage of life expands your storytelling toolbox.

2. Practice matters more than talent.

I didn’t start out as a “good writer.” No one does. But I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. Improvement is inevitable when you’re consistent.

3. Fear is normal—but it can’t drive.

Every new project scares me a little. Every release makes me feel vulnerable. But fear is part of being human—and part of being an artist.

4. Magic is in the details.

Whether it’s world-building, character nuance, or a subtle line of dialogue, the smallest choices often create the deepest impact.

5. Fantasy is powerful.

Not just because it’s imaginative, but because it invites readers to see themselves in places they’ve never been—to discover truth through wonder.

The Journey Continues

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this winding, magical, unexpected adventure, it’s that writing isn’t a destination. It’s a journey without a final chapter.

Every book I write brings me somewhere new. Every world I build teaches me something. Every character challenges me to dig deeper, dream bigger, and keep pushing forward.

I write because I love it—because storytelling is the language my heart speaks most fluently. Because the girl who once listened wide-eyed to Harry Potter would be proud of the woman I’ve become.

And I write because readers like you step through the doorways I build and walk these worlds with me.

Thank you for being part of my journey so far.

I can’t wait to share where it leads next.