I kinda grew up in the sticks. There weren't a lot of kids my age around, so I usually had to find ways to entertain myself.

 

I found a bunch of old building foundations in the middle of the woods, near a crik. Nature had already reclaimed them. Trees had grown up through the middle of the structures, red oak, maple, willow, making the ruins seem ancient and mysterious. There were no roads anymore, so it seemed like I was the only person on Earth who knew about these places.

 

I'd make up stories about what the buildings were used for, who lived there, and what happened to them. I drew maps. At first, I wanted to be an archaeologist and find more lost worlds. But somebody convinced me that everything had already been discovered. So, if I couldn't discover worlds, maybe I could create them. That's how I got started writing.