“One day you’re going to write many books.” Carol Jones Anderson At a very tender age I began my writing journey, during which I was mainly making up stories using the few toys I had. At nights when it was quiet the kerosene lamp in our house became my best friend. I would sneak into my backpack and grab scraps of paper and gather my toys to narrate the adventurous stories in my head. My mother who loved reading my stories would sometime chase me to bed. Her theory was that I will strain my eyes using the dull light from the lamp. It turned out she was right, because at the age of 13 I had a very hard time seeing things that were close to me. The optometrist told my mother I needed glasses, she looked at me and said “I told you so.” That, however did not stop me from creating characters and universes only I could see. My mother believed in my writing more than I did. To her, it was a gift, but to me it was fun. My writing journey continued, but after a while I