Writing has been in my blood since I was a child. One of my earliest memories of getting lost in a book was in second grade, when my teacher read aloud The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White. I remember sitting on the floor in the reading circle, feeling like I was part of the unfolding story. I couldn’t wait for story time each day, and was so sad when she finished the book. I wanted to know more!

As I got older, I dreamed of being a writer, and although I dabbled in it as an adult, I didn’t make it a priority until much later in life. I worked full-time and was raising my son, and life was busy. My imagination, however, was always working overtime.  

For years, I was drawn to writing fiction. It’s what I read most often, and story inspiration was everywhere. It wasn’t until I got divorced the second time that I began reading more self-exploration/self-help books and memoirs. My world became enriched by reading others’ experiences, and I fell in love all over again with getting lost in the tale.

Words have a magical power to them. A well-told story has an unseen energy that whisks you away from your world and miraculously transports you somewhere new. You see and experience things through fresh eyes. Each story leaves its imprint on your soul, weaving its threads into the tapestry of your life.

We become an amalgamation of all the stories we read, as we find bits and pieces of ourselves reflected on the page in the commonality of the human experience.