April 10, 2011

And so it begins...

I am officially a blogger thanks to my tirelessly supportive husband who stayed up late with me (even though he was sick) to get this bad boy up and running. Without his help, I would still be swaying in front of the monitor with my fingers poised over the keys afraid to touch anything. Now here I am, completely official...and totally stymied about what to write.  So maybe I'll begin by talking about what made me want to start writing in the first place.

I wasn't one of those people who always knew that they wanted to be a writer.  I think on some level writing was always a part of me, lurking in the background of my life waiting to be discovered, but I didn't take the time to look until two years ago.  I guess that makes me a late bloomer! Still, there were clues...like my addiction to playing pretend by myself in my room with the door shut.  I would pretend that my baby dolls were orphans left on my doorstep to be cared for by me, an extremely capable five year old. I could tell no one of their existence since there were any number of bad guys after them.Somehow I had to keep them alive because the fate of the world rested squarely in their tiny rubber hands-they were destined to be superheroes. 

 And later when most kids were starting to give up on toys in favor of spin the bottle and other boy-girl games, I was still putting Barbies on a deserted island(coffee table) in Kleneex dresses that I would gradually rip to shreds Survivor-style while they struggled to find their way back to the Barbie townhouse. 

I have always been addicted to books and spend most of my nights swallowing novels whole.  I even had several teachers throughout the years urge me to try and write more seriously...so it should have been obvious that writing was for me, but I am apparently oblivious to obvious. I've been a waitress, a doll maker and a teacher, and a stay at home mom since high school, but I only ever wrote in my journal.  What finally woke me up from my non-writing stupor was having my two beautiful daughters.  They made my life complete and I love them more than I can say, but somewhere between my first year home and the sixth one, they sucked the intellectual life out of me.  The only conversations I had were about diapers and colds and naps-for years. It was enough to force my writer's voice from the shadows and soon I couldn't contain all the sentences I needed to write, all the stuff I needed to say...I ran to paper and pencil and have been writing ever since.

So why write young adult novels?  Because they are about characters going through some of the biggest changes of their lives and it's fun to go back and live those changes through my character's eyes.  I write fantasy because I have always preferred reading it--not necessarily high fantasy-just magical events or characters sprinkled into the real world-enough fantasy to escape into. I also had such a strong connection to books at that stage of my life and I can think of nothing better than writing a book that will resonate with someone the same way.

So now you know a little something about me, if you somehow managed to stumble on this blog, let me know your story. I'd love to hear it!


  1. I read that a lot of creative people had rich fantasy lives as children (pretend play, endlessly reading, etc) and some of them were only children (no sibs)or had endured some kind of trauma or tragic event. What was your childhood like?

  2. Actually I had a very normal childhood. I have one brother and my parents have been happily married going on 42 years now. No major trauma--but we did move a lot when I was young and I was sort of shy for a while as a result so I dove into books. But the imagination thing was always there:)