People always want to know how long it took to realize you wanted to do something you love — in my case, writing. I was born with the spark; it just spent a few decades dodging traffic.

Writing was never something I discovered; it’s something that kept trying to find me. Between bills, jobs, and the general circus of life, words waited patiently in the wings until I finally had to stop long enough to notice them waving their metaphorical arms.

When I did, even then it wasn’t as if the floodgates opened. Long before gnomes, coloring books, outer-space adventures, or even a medical alphabet (because of course my brain alphabetizes chaos), I “found” content mills. People often criticize them, but they primed me for what was to come. Still, that writing was different: don’t do this, don’t do that, and please do not interject personality.

Yet somewhere in that whirlwind, A Heep of Words became less of a dream and more of a reunion with my original self.

When I finally made peace with the fact that I write like I live — in multiple directions at once — the pen names followed naturally. Each one has its own rhythm, its own heartbeat, and, honestly, its own level of minor mayhem.

Alexandra Heep is the researcher and decoder, forever chasing connections between the body, mind, and world. She’s the one who insists on turning every “why” into a full-blown essay — preferably with citations.

Helena Parx wandered in next, tracking gnomes through gardens and galaxies. She thrives where whimsy meets wisdom, where even mischief has meaning.

And Lexa Drane? She’s the calm in the creative storm. She writes for the child still inside the grown-ups — the one who just needs a story gentle enough in which to breathe.

Together, they form a sort of creative constellation — separate stars, but part of the same sky. Together, we travel through different worlds and genres, but every road leads back here — to A Heep of Words.

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