Once upon a time...

This story starts with my love of stories. Maybe it was my Scandinavian grandfather, Morfar, who would tell me stories as a little girl who lit that fire. Or maybe it was the very little time I was allowed to watch television or be on the computer that encouraged me to pick up book after book and devour it. Whatever it was, my love of literature started when I was very young. My family moved alot: over a dozen times before I was eighteen and I had very few friends. But, Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and Charles Dickens were my truest friends; Florence Nightingale, Thomas Edison, Clara Barton, and so many others were inspiring companions. I was spell bound by the classics and by biographies. My mother told me she had to ground me from reading so I would do something, anything else. Reading was/is so much more than comprehending words on a page; it was/is stepping into other worlds. Reading was one thing, but then when I was eight I started writing; I fell in love. I was a creator, a puppet master and the feeling was euphoric. I believe it is something only writers can truly understand, but in writing I found a sense of incredible peace and deep purpose. I felt fulfilled. Now, a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and many years later I have decided to do one of the scariest things I have ever done: try to become a published author. I am currently working on two books that are loosely based on Scandinavian and Norse mythology. I know it may be a long journey, but you never know if you can fly unless you jump.