I began writing poetry at the age of 7 by flashlight late at night on any piece of paper I could find... My Momma recognized my talents and taught me to embrace my empathetic, sensitive side... She taught me that being sensitive was my biggest strength, not weakness... She would give me a new journal every time she saw I was using scraps again... She'd give them to me and I still remember the feel of the covers, the smell that would waft through my nose and into my spirit... She would always have a little prose written just for me... She nurtured my craft and would sit and listen as I'd read my poetry aloud to her... She always told me, "Believe in the beauty of your dreams." I became such a fluent writer by my teen years that I'd fill a notebook in a few days when inspiration struck... People would ask, where'd you come up with this My only answer was out of the ether... The only way I could describe it was in a mystic blur...