I’ve loved words for as long as I can remember. Something about them, the way the same letters and words can be arranged in so many different ways to create so many new and exciting things, has always resonated with me. I don’t remember a time before reading; I barely remember a time before storytelling. I was the girl with the overactive imagination, the one the other kids surrounded as I wove tales of adventure and fright, secretly pretending I was an ancient bard like Homer or Vergil.
With years of storytelling and imagination, plus English and literature being my favorite subjects in school, it astounds me how long it took for me to start writing seriously. It wasn’t until the eighth grade that I had the idea: I should write a book!
And thus, armed with a tiny notepad with a cartoon bunny on the cover, a pencil, and some free time at school, I began to write quite possibly the worst fantasy story ever to exist upon this planet. And I loved every moment of it. Sure, each “chapter” might have been thirty to fifty words, max. And nothing made any sense. But it was so much fun. I began to experiment with characters and develop a world. I stayed up late into the night, writing in notebooks or happily typing away on my laptop. I read as much as I could; I wrote as much as I could. My parents often complained that I spent all my free time writing–they were right. I was obsessed; thoroughly and completely in love with this world and these characters I created.
That world, those characters, and that story are now vastly different than they were in that tiny little notebook. But through the years, one thing remains true: it’s my passion project. It is my love, my heart, my soul. It is an unshakeable, unbreakable truth, a constant through all the ups and downs of my life. When I felt overwhelmed with life, I wrote. When I felt depressed, I wrote. When I outgrew old friends and found I didn’t enjoy certain things like I used to and had a teenage identity crisis, I wrote. My characters grew as I grew. And in some ways, they pushed me to do, and to be, better. I wrote the person I was and the person I wanted to be into those books.
Those same characters, that same story, continues to push me today. As an adult, I have been diagnosed with multiple chronic medical disabilities that came with a lot of societal stigma and misunderstanding. Through that, I wrote. When this world was too much to handle, I folded myself into the warm embrace of a world I created and controlled. I explored my conditions through the eyes of my characters, giving them many of the same diagnoses and watching how their personalities and social groups influenced how they coped. I gave myself treatments that don’t exist in our world, in the hopes that someday, they will. In the meantime, I draw comfort and hope from those characters and that world and through my relationship with God.
I wrote other stories, too. Poems and short stories and novels and spinoffs. I dreamt up so many stories, I have a folder on my desktop full of folders for each project just to keep them straight. And I’m still working on many of them.
One of my biggest goals to prove to myself that I could do this whole ‘writer thing’ was to have something published before I turned twenty. I was nineteen when I published my short story, Point of Grace. It’s humble beginnings, but I’m proud of the work I put into achieving that goal. It wasn’t easy, and I almost gave up more than once, but I’ve never regretted sticking with writing. I love it.
I’m a writer, and I’m a nerd. I love to read, especially fantasy and romance. I love to watch action and superhero and fantasy and science fiction movies and shows. I love a good RPG, both the tabletop and video game varieties. I’m not very good at video games, but I don’t have to be–I play to enjoy myself, not to win. My interests double as research: if I love a certain character, or scene, or bit of dialogue, or costume, I ask myself why. Why do I love it? Why does it work so well? And above all, how can I learn from that?
I suppose, what with my love for reading and writing, becoming an editor was the next logical step. I briefly considered it around the time I turned sixteen, but it seemed so hard, so impossible–I severely doubted my capabilities. Fast forward a few years, and I beta read a book for Dr. Magdalena Battles. I began to notice a few errors, and since I was anxious to prove myself a good beta reader, I pointed a few out. I asked if she’d like me to keep an eye out for more, and she said yes.
Dr. Battles was my first client, and the first person besides my mom to tell me I should consider being an editor. That day, I made the decision to lean into it as a freelancer, getting a client here and there as I had time. And I fell head over heels in love with it.
I’ve been officially freelancing since 2018. I remember the elation of getting my first repeat client (hi, Willow!). I love the relationships I build with my clients. I love watching their works transform into what they dream they could be.
I made the joke once: I forge books from manuscripts in the fires of red ink.
The Book Forge. It seemed such a fitting name, after that. Armed with my new business name and a renewed vigor to follow my dreams after quitting a job I didn’t enjoy, I started a free website on Wix. I had no idea what I was doing, but it worked. I landed a few jobs and gained some traction. I decided that in 2023, I would have my own website with my own domain. So for Christmas 2022, I bought my very own domain name, and within the first seven days, the website had over 100 views.
I’m excited to see what the future holds for me! I can’t wait to release more stories and, someday, publish my passion project for the world to see. In the meantime, I’ll follow God’s direction and help my fellow writers forge the best books we can!
The Book Forge 