Call it an invictus. An invictus, in case you were wondering, is a Latin word meaning “unconquerable.” When I use it, I’m referencing the daring, courage-in-the-teeth-of-fate poem written by William Ernest Henley. (It’s worth a read!) My invictus came at the top of the steps at the Book Festival. I had just been to a workshop in which anxious authors-to-be plied several of Those Who Have Made It with questions about how to get their start. As per usual, (I’ve been to a few of these talks before and read articles following the same bent) we got to the incredibly disheartening odds stacked up against us new, innocent little storytellers…

I’m terribly intimidated to know that this is the first of my work some of you will ever read. This moment feels like public speaking, right at the hush when everyone waits for you to speak but all you can think about is whether the mic is going to squeal with feedback. And then you hazily ask yourself, “Why am I up here?” The Long Version: I guess I’m here, writing this to you, because I want to give some explanation of what you can expect from me and, quite simply, why I do what I do. I used to know the answer to that, but it gets less clear…