I think it’s high time that I shared this story.

Every artist has that ‘why’ story. That moment in their life where their artistry skyrocketed and they decided that this is who they were. The moment that shaped them as a writer.

Mine was the day my grandma died.

I think everyone has a muse—and for a while, she was mine.

Alright….so I just started querying and it’s been a process. One that—as a friend told me—is akin to being on a dating app while simultaneously applying for a job. My querying typically looks something like:

1) scrolling through 200 agents on querytracker.com & manuscriptwishlist.com

2) writing down all the names and information to all the ones that i would want to query

3) spending 2 hours querying 5-10 out of those 200 agents through varying formats

I hear it all the time:

“You look like a writer.”

“That outfit is giving author vibes.”

“This room is cute!”

“Oh, this is giving book vibes."

Honestly, they’re right.

The aesthetic exists; and it would be a lie to say I don’t try to capture it.

The baggy brown cardigan thrown over a yellow romper and sandals. The warm, scented candle glowing at midnight as you scrawl in a leatherbound journal with a dip pen. The Epic Trailer music playing in your ears as you write a battle scene with vigor. It is a pleasing, artistic vibe that will never grow old. I live for that.

My suitcase is finally empty. The laundry's in the wash. My room is finally clean. I had to rearrange my bookshelf again to fit all the new ones. The conference lanyard is hanging off my mirror. Life, for all the crazy I’ve experienced, has returned to normal.

Except...

I don't think my brain got the memo.

Because I'm still unpacking Realm Makers.

I'm not exactly sure what I expected to happen at Realm Makers. I knew there would be classes. I knew I'd meet a bunch of authors.

I’ve rewritten this opening too many times at this point.

It’s funny, really. You’d think someone who spends so much time writing stories would have no problem figuring out how to start a blog. But I’ve always found it difficult to write about myself. My characters: they’re interesting. They’re magical. And they don’t exist (at least, not in the normal sense of the word). But me? I’m not magical, I live an ordinary life, and I definitely exist. …Hopefully.

What do you write about someone as boring as that? So here I am…