Worlds Apart and Worlds Within
A novelist twists facts and turns them into fiction. How or even why they do that, is a question not even they can often answer. It's just, they have to. I have done so since I was a child. According to my mother I was born reading--only a slight exaggeration.
For years I read and read and read. I devoured libraries and realized very soon that I often came home with Fantasy or Science Fiction. Not a conscious choice back then, but it only seemed natural to write in those genres.
I told you where I came from in my bio. "Who" I am is for me to decide but what shapes us is not always by our choice.
The picture above was taken in 2010 at the Rememberance Day service in our small town. The handsome young man is my son. By May 2011 he was taken from us, not in combat although he had served two tours of Afghanistan, but by accident.
I stopped writing because suddenly it seemed trivial. You can't live in a fantasy world, not after you lose a child, because it doesn't matter how old they are, they are always your kid. But this particular kid always loved what I wrote. He even downloaded all my novels and took them with him to Afghanistan.
So it was for him that I began writing again. It is why I am here, why I have my first novel out. Of course I had a lot of help; I couldn't have done it alone, but it is mainly because of him. I hope you enjoy my work as much as he did.
A novelist twists facts and turns them into fiction. How or even why they do that, is a question not even they can often answer. It's just, they have to. I have done so since I was a child. According to my mother I was born reading--only a slight exaggeration.
For years I read and read and read. I devoured libraries and realized very soon that I often came home with Fantasy or Science Fiction. Not a conscious choice back then, but it only seemed natural to write in those genres.
I told you where I came from in my bio. "Who" I am is for me to decide but what shapes us is not always by our choice.
The picture above was taken in 2010 at the Rememberance Day service in our small town. The handsome young man is my son. By May 2011 he was taken from us, not in combat although he had served two tours of Afghanistan, but by accident.
I stopped writing because suddenly it seemed trivial. You can't live in a fantasy world, not after you lose a child, because it doesn't matter how old they are, they are always your kid. But this particular kid always loved what I wrote. He even downloaded all my novels and took them with him to Afghanistan.
So it was for him that I began writing again. It is why I am here, why I have my first novel out. Of course I had a lot of help; I couldn't have done it alone, but it is mainly because of him. I hope you enjoy my work as much as he did.
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