I didn’t start writing because I wanted to be an author. I started writing because I was a reader.
When I was younger, I read as fast as I could get my hands on books. While other kids spent hours on video games or television, I disappeared into libraries. I devoured fantasy worlds, magical systems, and impossible adventures. I wanted stories that stretched the imagination and made the ordinary world feel bigger.
And eventually, I ran out. Not entirely—but enough to feel the absence. I wanted more worlds. More magic. More awe. More places to step into when reality felt too small.
So I started building them.
At age ten, it was little fragments and half-formed scenes. By twelve, I had an English teacher who encouraged my writing and helped me see that those ideas mattered. My writing flourished with my imagination, and short stories formed. By age thirteen, I finished my first novella and even wrote poetry alongside it.
By the end of high school, I had completed my first short novel.
Years later, I returned to that story, revised it as an adult, and published it. Since then, I’ve self-published five works and continue writing steadily. Two novels are currently waiting in the wings—one deep in edits, another out in the world being queried to agents. A new novella releases this October. Another draft is already taking shape.
But the reason hasn’t changed. I still write because I want more worlds.
I create stories to stretch the imagination, to question what’s possible, and to offer adventure without despair. I believe books can take us to the edge of darkness without abandoning hope. They can challenge us, thrill us, and expand us—while still being safe places to wander.
That’s why my stories are built as doors.
Some open into ancient kingdoms shaped by crowns and magic.
Some stand at the quiet divide between life and death.
Some remain in the present world, where something beneath the surface begins to shift.
But all of them are invitations:
-Step through.
-Explore.
-Stay awhile.
And when you’re ready, come back carrying a little more wonder than you had before.
Because somewhere out there is a reader who wants one more world to enter.
And I’m still building them.