I like to write. I have always liked to write, even before I could write. I would staple together booklets of computer paper, or use Scotch tape to tape them together if I couldn’t find a stapler, and then draw pictures on each page with a story in mind. And then I would find a grown-up—my mom, a day care worker, a teacher—and I would dictate to them the words I wanted on each page. And I would watch them, wide-eyed, as they brought my stories to life with magical symbols that I didn’t understand yet, out of my head and onto a page so that others could see what I saw.

I am trying to do more of that magic on my own now.