I must continue to write. It is the only thing I have to save myself – my only mechanism of defense. I cannot stop. I cannot let the pressures of life hold me back. I must rise above the challenges, using my pen as a sword with which I can pierce problems and slash snags, for when I write, I am in charge. I am the dictator – a benevolent one, I would like to believe – of a world I create, mold, and maintain. I am strong, triumphant, and powerful. It is MY world – my sanctuary. I have the strength and bravery to banish those malicious demons that haunt me in that other world. I can control when they are permitted to sneak across the boundary between the two and encroach upon my hiding spot. Only I can make the decision to let them in on the secret. I am safe.

I’m Liza. Like everyone else here, I like to write. The idea of other people reading my writing terrifies me, but the idea of wasting my life pouring my thoughts into stories no one will ever read terrifies me even more. That is the reason I am here.