I’ve dreamed of being a published author since I was six years old, stapling together bits of paper into “books.” Even now, the idea of holding a book in my hands, with my name on it, has a kind of magic that I think all writers seek out.
It’s book magic.
And it doesn’t just happen as an author. As a reader, it’s that buzz we feel when we read a book we love so much that the rest of the world fades away.
Recently, someone asked me how I came up with the world in my book, Fear My Mortality. My initial answer was to say that I sat down one day, brainstormed, and just started writing—you know, as you do.
But when I thought about it, I realized it was more than that.
I was sick a lot as a kid. I had a nasty case of glandular…
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