I was born and raised in Vermont, where I spent a lot of time outside, skiing, and hiking, playing soccer, swimming, and playing in the woods.

I have always loved books, even more than Ben & Jerry’s ice cream and maple syrup, and even before I could read on my own. I remember listening to stories that my parents and teachers and librarians read aloud. I loved the feel of a book in my lap, the pages between my fingers, and I loved the pictures. When I learned how to read, I read everywhere— at home, in the car, on a perfect branch in my favorite climbing tree, and even on the tops of mountains! Every chance I got, I read. I read, and read, and read, and all of that reading is the groundwork for any writer.

When I was little, my dad told me, “If you can figure out what you really love and then figure out how to make that thing your job, you will always be happy.” For me, it was books. How could I make books my job? I dreamed of being a teacher and an author, and I practiced both of those things constantly. I set up a stuffed animal class in my bedroom and read out loud to them each morning, and I read to my dogs whenever they would sit still. Later, I attended Carleton College where I studied English and surrounded myself with other book-lovers.