In most ways, I am my father’s child. He gave me his face, his body type, his stubborn ferocity, a deep passion for music, and a SFF tv habit. From the very beginning, I was a mini-dad, storming through life for better or worse. But as a reader, I was raised my my mom. She took me to the library and let me check out as many books as I could carry, though it was her books at home that I read over and over again. She brought me up on books from her own childhood like the Judy Bolton mysteries and the Maida series, but also Zenna Henderson and Ray Bradbury—with a dash of Vonnegut and C.S. Lewis on the side. My mom is the kind of reader whose need to savor the journey outweighs all else; she routinely flips to the back of the book to make sure things turn out okay so that she can relax and enjoy the story. So it’s for her that I’ll begin this post by stating its happy conclusion up front:
🎉 I’m thrilled to announce that I’m now represented by Victoria Marini at IGLA!
