How I fell in love with writing…

Mom and I were in the office, unpacking boxes one night, way past my bedtime. She reached for a book with worn edges and a faded cover. “I remember loving this one,” she said. “Britt, you should read this.”

Being eight, I took her words quite literally. I grabbed the book, climbed the rungs of my new bunk bed, and flew through the first half of The Hidden Staircase.

Afterward, I had a serious decision to make. Should I be a detective like Nancy Drew or a writer like Carolyn Keene? I remember lying on my bed, pondering the pros and cons of each career. After years of forming words on the page, I truly believe I chose the more challenging of the two.