Hello. I’m Hillary.

I’ve been called many things over the years: “a big ball of ambiguity,” “an enigma wrapped in mystery,” “a fairy,” “a freak,” “a geek,” “a nerd,” “a flower child,” “a witch,” “an odd duck,” and “the best/worst mommy in the world.”

But I’m guessing what you really want to know is that I’m also “a fabulous and thorough editor,” “a word nerd,” “a grammar enthusiast” (okay, maybe “grammar Nazi” is more accurate), “a book dragon,” “a details girl,” and “an exceptional line editor.”

As all good West Virginians do, I maintain the Old Magic by leaving out a pepperoni roll and Mountain Dew for Mothman every June 20th. And speaking of cryptids, the National Enquirer once reported they’d found Bat Boy in a cave near my childhood home—though my brothers insist that was just me when I lost my two front teeth.

I served as an LDS missionary in Sweden, where I encountered Viking hordes, ate pickled herring and reindeer burgers, and saw at least one troll. (It may have looked like a boulder in the middle of an empty field, but that’s just because it was daylight; I wasn’t fooled.)

I now live in Sandy, Utah, with my husband Samwise Gamgee (he prefers “Nate,” but he carries me up my personal Mount Dooms, vanquishes giant spiders, and whips up the most scrumptious taters). By day, I bake gluten-free treats, transform my painfully suburban yard into a wildflower haven, and break up battles between the five tiny, feral hobbits who call me “Mom.” By night, I punish imaginary friends until they develop some character and prowl through text like a grammar vigilante—battling rogue spellings, untangling spliced sentences, and bringing justice to crimes against syntax.