I grew up in Florida (when I say grew up, I really mean I spent nine out of my 16 years there) and ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to write. Of course, it’s gotten me into trouble, more times that I can count. Homework assignments not turned in because I wrote some great ideas down on it (that went over well with mom. . . not) and notebooks lying around everywhere are my way of showing my commitment to my preferred form of art (I can’t draw, I can’t sing, so writing’s all I’ve got). Most people would call that stupid, and it probably is. In my spare time (when I’m not writing), I’m a trumpeter (People ask if there are a lot of girl trumpeters. The answer is no.) and a normal teenager. I’ve also just discovered that I’m oddly addicted to parentheses . . . great.