One of my earliest memories is writing, by pen-pal exchange, a story with my aunt. At maybe six years old, I wrote and drew pictures about a story of a little girl falling through a hole in her fence and into a world of strange magic. The bug bit, and I continued telling stories all through elementary school, and finished my first 20,000 word novella in seventh grade (it was bad). Over time, I realized more about what I liked to read, and that shaped what I liked to write, and paint, and play. I’ve always been fascinated by just how many mediums there are for telling a tale, and I want to at least dip my brush into all of them before I die. To this day, I couldn’t say exactly when I started telling stories, but I promise I’ll never stop.