When I look back at any time in my life, there’s always a book or notebook around. I grew up surrounded by books (I inherited my parents’ voraciousness for literature), and at some point of my youth I also started writing my own stories. I have a terrible memory, but I distinctly remember using my father’s typewriter to create fictional stories. They were short and sometimes they were just a re-telling of a TV show I was watching at the time. But, nonetheless, the reading and writing stuck around. As a teen I went through reading phases (I only read Agatha Christie for a whole year), and as I got older, I started reading different genres and authors. At school, I loved creative writing assignments and was once told by a teacher that given the lengths of what I wrote, I would be taking her weekend away. I also wrote a short novel at 11 or so, and though I’d be embarrassed to read it now because it must have had a bucketload of errors, I remember receiving support at school. I became an Editor (Universidad de Buenos Aires) and then earned a Master’s Degree in English Language (Universidad de Belgrano), and after some work experience at different publishing houses, I spent all of ten minutes realizing that instead of devoting myself 100% to editing others’ novels, I would rather spend some time on writing my own. I officially decided to become a writer at 26, and while at first I published under a pseudonym (Abby Barly), I finally started with The Last Summer and then decided to work on The Five series (after I got my eldest niece to read them and approve their publishing). Now I can’t see myself doing anything other than what I’m doing, which is something I love.