I grew up on a ranch in the middle of a desert. My job was to shovel dung, feed horses, and clean the tack house, before school at 7:00AM. I worked a lot, rode little, and read hard. I read behind hay bales with the smell of alfalfa in my nose and the occasional spider that crawled up my leg. I read until my library card was battered and torn and the world I wished existed blurred with the world I lived in. I read to escape an intensely real job I did as a child. I write hoping that somewhere, someone will read my work and have the same escape.