To celebrate Black Soul’s release, I thought I would give my readers a little background information about me. Where I came from, what I’ve experienced, and who has impacted my life in the most positive ways.
As a little girl, we didn’t have a lot. But we were happy.
In the North Carolina mountains, I ran around my yard in underoos (wonder woman underwear-cami and undies) and pretended I was Wonder Woman. With a piece of rope from my Daddy’s tool shed, I lassoed anything I could and made it tell me the truth. I had no shortage of imagination.
My sister and I didn’t need toys. We had each other, big boxes, sticks, sheets, and buildings to play in. The buildings were cities, any city we wanted to visit, complete with hideaways from the bad guys and portals to other worlds. The sticks, sheets, and boxes were artifacts in whatever scene we acted out. They could be anything. We could be anyone. We had it all.
When we grew older, and running around in your underwear wasn’t kosher, Anna decided to get involved in sports and I delved into the magical world of books. VC Andrews was my first author hero. Her original works were amazing. She had the ability to force you to fall in love, laugh, and cry with ease. When she killed off a character, you mourned their loss as if they were friends of yours, but she did it in a way that was natural, so I was never mad at her. It was the circle of life, the way things happened, the way doors were opened for new characters to enter. I read every story of hers that I could get my hands on.
So many years ago, there were only a few VC Andrews titles, so I moved on to Dean Koontz. It was quite a jump, considering his works were stand alone novels. But they were just as enticing. He helped me fall in love with sci-fi and paranormal romance. His characters were so well developed that I was that character for the duration of the novel. I skipped meals to read. Nothing was more important.
Until, one day when a friend of mine asked me to start writing stories.
At the end of my high school career, I had over 2000 pages of handwritten novels shelved in my room, a permanent pencil indention on the finger that supported my pen or pencil, and friends who begged me to write more. When high school ended, writing was put on hold for the real world. I had to get a job.
After twenty years, I’d married, began opening my home to teens who wanted to hang out, watch movies, and do safe things other than be out on the streets. One of those teens was interested in writing. She started a book on her laptop and asked me to review it.
This brought back memories. That love for the way a pencil felt scraping against a piece of blank paper. The way a world felt when you created it and nothing but your imagination could infiltrate it. Anything could happen.
After telling her it reminded me of writing when I was her age, she asked me to join her in writing. Just for fun. A year passed. The girls begged me to write. Not just a fanfic, but something straight from my imagination. Something that might be worth publishing. So, I bought my own laptop.
Gone were the days of striking through a whole sentence and rewriting it, then having to rewrite the whole page to make it look neat. I had the world at my fingertips in the form of Microsoft Word. And I wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe the number of novels I have written.
That number will advance though. This is going to be my year.
Here’s a tentative list of my works. I’ll add a few new ones in the months to come.