I am a lover of tales. Some of my earliest memories are of laying my head on my mother’s shoulder and listening to her voice echo through her chest while reading aloud. I have written, in one form or another, all my life, whether writing poems, journals or novels.
As an only child living in the country, I had a whole village of imaginary friends; humans, dwarfs and dragons. Stories abounded within the woods of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
At age eleven I undertook the task of writing my first novel. It was about my grandfather’s experience in World War II. However, I was too shy to ask him directly for any details, so I listened and wrote from the stories he shared with others.
I was dyslexic and often told to write you must read…a lot. But reading was hard for me. I pursued other artistic avenues, but always wrote for myself. It wasn’t until I was an adult, married with children who love stories, that I began to share my work.
Now I am an avid reader and writer and love to share my tales.
I write because I must. The stories stir in my mind and wake me at night, forcing their way onto the page. I write about powerful women and cultures where women and men are equal in all ways; worlds in which all are seen and respected. I write because I hope that one day these worlds will exist all around us and not just within the pages of a fantasy novel.
I live in Virginia with my husband, two children and our slightly demented cat .