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From Crime-Solving Teens to Magical Papillons: How I Found My Author Voice


If you ever see a kid in the corner at a party with their nose in a book, oblivious to the games, snacks, and mild chaos around them—yep, that was me. Always reading. Always scribbling something. Sports? Please. I was too short to make any team that didn’t require a step stool. Science? It was fun until they asked me to memorize the periodic table—pass. But reading? Writing? Oh, baby, that was my jam.

I tried my hand at writing my first mystery novel at age 14. My protagonists were (shockingly) teenage kids who solved crimes. There were flashlights, a lot of sneaking around old buildings, and absolutely no understanding of how actual criminal investigations work. But hey—what I lacked in forensic accuracy, I made up for in enthusiasm and lots of dialogue tagged with “he said dramatically.”

Then came the romance years. You know the ones. All fluttery hearts, brooding strangers, and small towns with improbably high numbers of single billionaires. I loved it. I still do. There’s nothing like the dopamine rush of a good love story, even if your characters are clearly making very questionable decisions and falling in love after approximately three conversations and a shared croissant.

As time passed, I dipped into financial thrillers. Because why not? I was reading them, and I figured I might as well channel my bafflement at the tech industry and Wall Street into fiction. I gave it a good go. Sadly, none of these early ventures exactly took off. The manuscripts gathered dust, while I gathered rejection emails and a growing suspicion that I was missing something.

Enter: my other great love. Dogs.

I got my dachshund when I was seven years old, and honestly, that little sausage with legs taught me more about loyalty, comic timing, and unconditional love than most humans ever did. It hit me one day—while watching my Papillon do something absurdly clever and magical (probably retrieving a lost sock with the flair of a Vegas magician)—that I had never written a book from my own heart. My real, quirky, magical, dog-loving heart.

So, I wrote a story about a woman, her kids, and a Papillon who happens to be sassy, psychic, and yes—magic. And guess what? That was the one. That was the book that resonated. Not just with readers, but with me. It was like finally finding the key to a door I’d been jiggling for years.

Now, if you’ve read one of my Magical Papillon Mysteries, you’ll understand why it clicked. It’s not just about solving cozy crimes (though I promise, there’s plenty of that). It’s about love. Family. Laughter. And dogs who know when you’re having a bad day—and will steal your slipper just to make you smile.

So if you’re chasing your writing dream—or any dream, really—let me leave you with this bit of wisdom: follow your weird little heart. Especially if it’s covered in dog hair.

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