While I’ve written both fiction and nonfiction, I quickly discovered where my heart truly lives: in fiction with purpose. For me, stories are not just entertainment—they’re medicine. Every enchanted forest, every mischievous creature, every whispered bit of magic carries a lesson about resilience, growth, or (if you’re lucky) how to finally persuade your cat that you are, in fact, a genius. My journey as a storyteller began in an unusual way: by writing down my dreams. Each morning, I would wake and capture the fragments of the night before—the wild, the whimsical, and sometimes the downright peculiar. And then I noticed something extraordinary: I was returning to the same places, meeting the same beings, walking through the same otherworldly landscapes again and again. That was the beginning of Mytharia. What started as scattered dream-notes grew into a living, breathing world. A place where imagination sparks, shadows teach, and laughter lingers in jars. These tales—born of dreams, polished with daylight—are my way of offering lessons wrapped in whimsy. I write because I believe our world is far too magical, far too strange and beautiful, to let us ever forget it. Stories, like dreams, remind us to pay attention—to wonder, to laugh, and to carry a little enchantment into the everyday.