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After telling my part in a improv spooky story game during a sleep over in elementary school, I was first told I should be a writer. This I ignored, until later in my life as a stay at home mom, having left the corporate world because of the high price of child care for two children, exceeded the benefit of my paycheck. Finding myself without the identity I was used to and becoming a 24 hour support system for everyone else, I felt invisible. So I asked myself, "If I am the only one that can define my own happiness, what will make me happy, or better yet fulfilled?" 

Answer; "Write a novel!"

The writer's group I attended with its weekly deadline and help with content, understanding, and most importantly grammar, helped bring this book into being.

Then somewhere in the journey  I crossed a line and writing became a necessity to my well being. Re-visiting experiences, traumatic and joyful, to then identify these emotions and attach them to my characters is daunting, but oh so fulfilling.

Last but not least I must give a genetic nod to my family, they are the best story tellers I have ever met. they're lives and experiences becoming a wonderland for my imagination.


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