About Me

I’ve been wandering through other worlds for as long as I can remember.

As a child, I lived between the pages of books—reading wasn’t just an escape; it was an immersion. I could see the stories unfold like films inside my head, every scene vividly stitched together as if the words were mine to direct. I devoured everything: romance, history, fantasy, classics, even dusty old encyclopedias. But what I craved most was discovery—stories that beckoned me into the unknown.

Tolkien taught me about myth. Rowling gave me wonder. Sapkowski gave me grit. George R. R. Martin gave me betrayal.
But Edgar Allan Poe?
He gave me delicious darkness.

His work sank into me like ink in paper. I remember reading “The Tell-Tale Heart” and realising: This. This is the kind of story that doesn’t end when the page does. That sense of lingering dread, of psychological unravelling—that was what I fell in love with.

From there, it only deepened. Agatha Christie sharpened my taste for mystery. Stephen King let me into the minds of monsters. V.C. Andrews taught me that families can be the scariest things of all. And somewhere in that strange cocktail of fantasy, horror, and a touch of gothicism… I found myself.

Movies? Give me psychological horror over gore any day. The kind of story that twists the rules until you’re not even sure what’s real. And yes—I’ll shamelessly swap all that for a superhero movie and a pile of comics, because every good hero is just one bad day from becoming a ghost story.

I started writing young. Notebooks, scribbles, whispered fan-fic theories when the next Harry Potter book was still years away. (My fan-fics always leaned a little twisted—turns out, that was just foreshadowing.)

But I didn’t take writing seriously until life forced me to stop.
Burnout nearly broke me.
After years of overwork, stress, and masking my own limits, I had to take a year off. What started as mandatory rest turned into rediscovery.
Writing became therapy.
A mirror.
A lifeline.

I was diagnosed twice-exceptional (2e): ADHD and Gifted. A blessing and a trap. The hyperfocus, the creativity, the insatiable curiosity—it all led me here.
Now, I use it. I write stories that help me survive, balance, breathe.
Stories where the ghosts have names.
Stories where the horror is real, but so is the healing.

So yes—
I write what you try to forget.
And I hope, somehow, it stays with you long after the last page.

– Ana W. Black.