When I was in elementary school I used to write short stories. The only thing I can really remember from any of them is a scene in one where the main character is running from a monster of some kind on a muddy trail. They weren’t aware that their feet were leaving prints in the mud and leading the monster directly to them. In middle school I wrote an essay length poem about being a leaf that fell from a tree at the end of Fall and I loved it so much that I memorized it even though it had nothing to do with the assignment. In high school I took to writing skits for our churches youth group and writing and taking photos for the yearbook. In college I joined the paper, I co-created a feminist poetry band (that deserves a post in itself if I’m being honest with you) and I wrote mediocre short stories that tapped into the strangest and least censored version of myself.