I have a gypsy heart and while I love home, I often find the need to explore new places, discover adventure, and find people and treasures I connect with. Reading has always been a big part of satisfying my inner gypsy. I read at a high school level by the time I was in third grade, devouring just about any book I could get my hands on. Have you ever seen a picture of a little girl pulling her wagon of books out of the library? Yup. That was me.
I started writing books in elementary school, just as a thing to do. The thought never crossed my mind that I could grow up to be a writer. That was the stuff of heros, legends, authors!
As I got older, I found myself searching for something that was all mine. Something that was all me. I started writing a children’s picture book (which has since been shelved) and loved the art of writing. I couldn’t, I can’t, get enough of learning about the craft, finding that rhythm in words that moves story through your mind and heart with the same effect as music.
One day while at my day job, I had one of those moments. You know, where all the pieces fall into place, everything becomes right in your world, etc cliche, etc cliche. I, literally, had to grip onto the seat of my worn desk chair in order to stop myself from walking into my bosses office and quitting. Because I realized, while sneaking in bits of writing in between work tasks, that I was a writer. That I was supposed to be a writer. That my destiny included authoring books, writing stories that opened up new worlds, telling tales to satisfy my little gypsy heart.
I never looked back.
I’m on my way to being published. I have a heart full of stories to be told. I have a wonderful system of writer friends (Readerlicious) that have become family. I am a writer. I’ve become my own childhood hero. And that, no matter how you look at it, is pretty awesome.
You can also find me cruising the Caribbean as the host of Cruising Writers!