I began writing because I met someone. A character. I was 13 and madly in love with him. I'd daydream of a way for us to meet. (I thought that with an author's word, a world was created where it became reality.) Somewhere out there was my love. So, I wrote about it. It was an epic! 300+pgs of dangers & romance. It was perfect. Until I realized I couldn't publish it. I'd stolen someone else's character. I've kept that story my secret love, but I've never been able to set down the pen!
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