Leah Levine writes about sassy robots, anthropomorphic body limbs, and magical grandfathers.

She once considered herself a writer of sad, adult stories — but eventually realized this had made her into a sad adult. So she turned to something much more her speed (and her audience's). She has also written about ducks who spoke in mafioso accents, but that project was a disaster, so please do not ask about it. And definitely don't quack in her presence.