The minions, which some people refer to as my children, are the driving force behind my writing. They drive me crazy, so I escape to Starbucks to write and drink coffee. Minion #1, whose birth certificate says James, will be 4 in June and can tell you the plot and themes of all of the original Star Wars movies. Occasionally he introduces himself to strangers as Luke Skywalker or Harry Potter. He's too smart for his own good.
Minion #2, a.k.a. Sydney, is named after the heroine of Alias, and possesses similar fearlessness, which is troubling since she's only one. Major sap alert: I think she's the reason I finally got serious about writing. Something about having a little girl sparked a need to re-empower myself, so I can be a role model for her.
The husband is my high school sweetheart (awww!), my caffeine connection (he works for Starbucks), and an artisan bread baker. Not joking. Occasionally he bakes fresh loaves of french bread which we dip in homemade hot cocoa Peeta-style. He is awesome. He makes sure I have time almost every day to go out and write. He reads drafts. And he doesn't mind being woken up every time I get a request in the middle of the night.
Next week I'm going to brag on the awesomeness that is my critique partners, who I'm pretty sure are going to be
NYT Bestselling authors someday.
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