I've spent my entire life reading.

Enid Blyton books were my first introduction to the world of literature and I was absolutely taken by it.

The power of the pen.

It took me so many places I'd never been before.

Years later, I write.

Mostly for myself but I do know what it is I'd like people to feel.

As I grew, my tastes broadened.

My love for reading sometimes waned but never vanished.

It mingled with a love for movies, the drama section of literature and then poetry.

I want people who read my work to see two things.

First, me.

At least the piece of me I decide to place between the lines.

These things I've written all have links to who I am.

And maybe they can't see that

But I get to express it.

I get to see those little self-Easter eggs

And I adore putting to words things within me,

Hidden behind a name that is and isn't mine

Onto a screen that keeps me apart

Yet weirdly connected for a beat

To the reader.

I hope my readers find some peace where I want them to and some discomfort where I prefer that.

I hope that - like me - they look at my work and see a small piece of them, sometimes.

I use writing as a way to understand myself and the deeper recesses of my mind that I usually prefer to ignore.

I often feel like a broken record but

If something I put out into the world

Makes a few people smile or feel a bit of the pain I felt or think?

Then I caused a ripple effect.

I did something that will bother someone, even if only for a second or minute.

For a moment, I was a part of a life that wasn't my own,

One I will never have to know the ins and outs of,

And my scribbles caused a genuine momentary shift.

That's the power art has had on me many, many times.

It's the greatest honour of all to have the same magic flowing through my fingertips.

This alone is enough.