On my way home from work one day, I noticed a single cumulus cruising above the highway. While the rest of the misty formations hung nebulous and inert, the cloudling moved like it had somewhere to be. At a stoplight, I snapped a photo. Weird, I know, but that’s who I am. The light turned green, and as I neared the cream puff again, it changed directions. I joked to myself, “Who’s driving that thing?” And a little voice in my head said, could be anyone.
That answer wormed a path through my imagination and unlocked a latent desire within me to write. Soon, I had outlines, timelines, character pages, sketches, folders of research, a hundred more photos of bouffant clouds, and an eagerness to cultivate my story during the wee hours, Sundays, and any other free moment life afforded me. I grew to love Rex, my protagonist, and the world he discovers. And now, book one of the Skyclyffe series is published. Best part yet? I’m not done. Writing is with me to stay, and I’m having a ball as I delve into the next installment of Rex’s journey.