For as long as I can remember I’ve had the strange feeling that there’s another world hiding inside our own. It always seemed as if there was more to our reality than we knew.
I looked for this ‘other world’ all over – in dark corners, nooks and crannies: the kind of places adults didn’t notice. Under my bed seemed a likely candidate and I often had strange dreams when I was small about finding something magical there. But, I never found my other world.
When I wasn’t looking for it, I was imagining what another world might be like. I would draw, think, daydream, and read. Books like The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe convinced me all over again that I’d one day find some other realm or reality hiding at the edges or lurking in the corners of our own. Fairy and folktales also spoke to me, and I sought them out, relishing all the stories that I could find. I began to make up my own tales set in other worlds, some populated with people I knew, but mostly with invented characters. And then, I started writing them down.