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Sometimes, I think my imagination is on drugs.

I ripped every fairytale I could think of apart and put them back together, remodeled the vampire myth and sent a group of kids through a wormhole onto an alien spaceship. And that is only a few of the ideas I have worked on over the years.

Stories are my passion. Whether watching them, listening to them, reading them or playing through them. Whether they are fact or fantasy, I love them all. They’re how I deal with reality, how I connect to other people and how I figure out who I am. They’re how I deal with depression. For every book I have read, every movie I have seen, every game I have played my brain has spun out multiple tales within that world.

There seems to be no end to what my brain can do with a single idea.

The first story I finished was my novel retelling the story of the prodigal son. I started on it for National Novel Writing Month my junior year in high school. Since then I’ve written several short stories, poems and started on a few new novel ideas. I also found my way into my university’s journalism program shortly after moving from Tennessee to Texas.

There I discovered my passion for not only telling my own stories, but for helping others tell theirs.

The stories I’ve read have helped broaden my perspective. I’m always finding new ways to look at things, new ways to communicate ideas to people. I find solutions to problems others might not have thought of.

If there is a better answer to an issue, I’ll find it. I play a wonderful devil’s advocate, and I can logically argue both sides of an issue, no matter my stance. I respect everyone’s ideas and opinions as valid, even if I disagree with them.

Honestly, if it weren’t for stories I have no idea where I would be today. Stories are what make me who I am.

I guess it is a writer’s life for me.