Kristine Croto

I write because I love to write. I write because, if I don’t write the characters down, they take over more of my brain than is acceptable for day-to-day functioning. I write because of the joy of seeing the words fall down like leaves, one by one, until the pattern of a story is revealed in its sun dappled wonder. I write because I have been half-asleep, and I have heard voices. I write to find out if they are, in fact, calling my name. My first novel was about twenty pages long, hand written in pencil on a yellow legal pad that I snagged from my dad’s office. The details of the plot have long since been lost to time, but I remember that the story was barely more than a glorified My Little Pony fanfic. I believe I was 7 years old. I wrote throughout grade school. I was that kid with the Five-Star, five subject note book (because the ruling was smaller), writing bad poetry when she was supposed to be paying attention in class. I was that kid writing an epic fantasy novel with poorly written sex scenes and dramatic themes from multiple points of view at 14. I was that girl, in college, who had to be startled out of her own world more often than not, especially if I had pen and paper in front of me. I’ve sold a few short stories over the years; more recently, I’ve found some success freelance blogging for websites like WhatToExpect.com’s Word of Mom, Lifescript, and Angie’s List. The Last Dance of Caitlyn Murphy is my first published novel.