When I was in the 5th grade I won my first writing contest. It was a letter to Santa telling him why I should be Santa’s Head Helper. I will always remember the moment when Mrs. Young, my teacher, handed me my over sized Candy Cane pencil and Christmas Mug because someone had connected with what I had written. It wasn’t so much that I had won but that someone had understood me. This is the reason I write. To connect, to be understood, and to understand myself. I wish I could say that I started writing short stories and that I was published by the time I was 14. I wish. Life had other plans for me.
My journey has been an interesting one. I stopped going to school in the 8th grade and went into Foster Care. From there I was shuttled around for a while until I ended up on the streets. Until many years later, on a lonely night, in a far away camp ground, lit by a falling star, I made a wish that would change my life’s direction…forever.
Fast forward to the present and you find me almost finished with my first novel in which my heroine is also on a journey. One that takes her into the mountains searching for a home. It is part of a trilogy and I hope you will be able to buy it by this time next year.
In the mean time, please enjoy the stories I post. Some true. Some fiction. Sometimes, a little of both.