J.L. wrote her first stories as a five-year-old about two cats finding a secret room in a treehouse. It was habit forming. Raised a homeschooler, she liked the woods and didn’t play sports. Instead, she wrote about talking rabbits, pioneers, cursed caves, superhumans, and a six-book kid-detective series. They were not good. She also doesn’t remember learning how to read, so it is possible she was born with that ability.

Her heart is in the desert and mountains, even when the rest of her can’t physically be there. (Which explains a few things.) When not writing she makes other things, like historical clothing, and believes Victorian era fashion should absolutely make a comeback, as long as sweatpants still exist. She loves black cats, the smell of hot pines, and thinks vowel sounds are the most interesting part of language.