Gosh, where to begin.
As far back as I can remember, I always got in trouble for telling stories. “You lie too much,” my mother used to say. But in my mind, I was telling stories. Too bad she never saw it that way.
I wrote my first poem when I was about seven years old. I actually still remember most of it by heart. My teachers were impressed, and entered it into a school contest. I won, but for the life of me I don’t remember exactly what I won.
As much as I wanted to write, I was also constantly reading. Anything I could get my hands on. Even books that were way above my age level. For example, when I was about ten years old, my mother and I constantly had a back-and-forth with Lord of the Flies, which had been required reading for one of my brothers. I’d sneak it from the main bookcase to my room, where she’d find it on laundry day and put it back. Yes, with a scolding: “you’re too young for that book.” Of course, that just made it all the more tantalizing. And so I read it in snatched, forbidden moments, but read it I did.
I typed up my first novella when I was fourteen. I even made a cover for it and bound it like a book. I passed it around to a couple of classmates, who enjoyed it and gave positive feedback. Interestingly enough, it was a romance, and I’d used the flowery language I’d seen in the historical romance novels I read at the time.
Then a couple of years later I discovered Stephen King, and fell in love with his writing style. It changed everything I thought I knew about writing. And reading, too.
Unfortunately, life took twists and turns, and I never did start that writing career I’d always wanted. I became an accountant, and then much later, switched gears into Information Technology. The only writing I did was business writing. White papers, case studies, proposals, and analytic reports. I was quite good at it, too. But it didn’t feed the creativity that was inside me, desperately clawing to be free.
In 2013 I could no longer work as a result of multiple chronic illnesses, and by mid-2014 had the germ of an idea for an urban fantasy trilogy. The first draft was completed by early 2015, but that was just the start. I had a steep learning curve, after all, since I had continued to read over the years but hadn’t done any creative writing to hone my voice or my craft.
Over the next two years, numerous personal tragedies, several surgeries, and a house move interrupted the revision process. But finally, after six revisions, early in 2018 the manuscript was ready for a professional edit.
On a more personal note, I live outside of Phoenix, Arizona, am married to a wonderful man, and have a stepdaughter and a stepson, who are both adults and living in other Washington State and California, respectively. Our two rescued doggies – an American Eskimo Dog named Squid, and a Pom-Chi named Finn – actually get along with each other and are a wonderful delight. Except when I’m trying to concentrate on writing, because it’s then they love to bark at anything (or nothing) and beg for treats.
I am also Pagan and enjoy the beauty of the world around me.