Stories on the edge of familiarity


We’re voracious readers, you and I.

Something clued us in early to the magic of the written word. Parents, school, friends, that one book that changed everything. You know the one.

Whatever it was, we hit the ground running, and we haven’t looked back since.

This is your place. This is my place.

This is our place.

I’m a Canadian who barely made it over five feet, knows far too much for her own good, and has a dogsled team for that pesky winter travel a car named Ferdinand. I grew up mostly on an acreage with a pond, partly in the humidity of Alabama, and the rest of the way in Edmonton, home of the world’s second-largest mall (which I almost never go to, but whose existence I am irrationally proud of). But properly growing up requires a few more inches and a lot more dullness, so I’ve decided to exercise my imagination instead.

You’re not me, but I have this feeling. Y’know, in my bones.

We are going to have such adventures together.


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