True story: I was a rather odd child. Nose in a book. Head in the clouds. Not good at sports. Academics. Normal conversation. I was painfully shy and often picked on by my peers and, sometimes, believe it or not, my teachers. Aside from home and family, my imagination was my happy place. In it, I explored vast galaxies, traversed deep oceans, solved age-old mysteries. Words played through my mind in tantalizing melodies that seemed much more exciting than the real world. Now, here I am. All these years later. A rather odd adult who became passably social, gifted academically, a reasonable conversationalist. I still can’t throw or catch a ball, but no one ever asks me to . And, all the things that made me odd have made what I am: an author. Writing is my main job, my only job. I literally support myself on what I earn spinning yarns from the wild depth of my imagination. So, if you are an oddball, a dreamer, a square peg trying to fit in a round hole (or if you are raising one), take heart. Often, the things that make us different also make us a success.
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