The Devil's Grin (my debut novel) wasn't my first story. Duh, you're probably thinking, all authors have a shitload more books in their heads than published.
True.
But this one? It never left me.
Here's why: My brain is LOUD. Constant chatter, background music, noise, thoughts - everything. All. The. Time. Especially when I'm trying to sleep.
If you're neurodivergent, you're probably nodding right now.
I make up stories to give my brain something more pleasant to do than ponder questions like, "What if quantum entanglement = consciousness? What if it gets recycled like biomass? Does that mean everything shares minuscule parts of quantum entanglement = consciousness?"
Or more often, "Time to ponder ALL the horrible mistakes I made in the past decades!"
The Girl Who Ran with Monsters was my first-ever story. Over the years, it grew from a handful of scenes to a short story, then to parts of a book, and now...well, it got a bit out of hand.
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