I’m not one of those people who knew they wanted to be an author at the age of six.  I didn’t have imaginary friends.  I didn’t write stories in my journal or entertain my relatives by firelight after Thanksgiving dinner.  For the most part, I was just a normal, everyday kid.  I wasn’t exceptional in reading or writing, but I got by.  In fact, I hated my literature courses growing up, and English was probably one of my worst classes.  I did, however, always have a penchant for the unique and absurd.  And as my mother told me all throughout my childhood, I should have been an actress – I was a drama queen before my time. Stories have always flowed through my mind.  But I just assumed that happened to everyone.  Did I ever confess to having these strange and meaningless scenes invading my head?  Heck, no.  The drama queen was too afraid of what her family and friends would say. It was only after I quit my teaching job to stay home with my children that I had the time and opportunity to sit down and actually write.  It started as an “I wonder if I can do this” type thing, and quickly bloomed into a career I didn’t know I even wanted.  There’s something liberating about finally unleashing those stories from my locked up mind.  If I had known that little fact, I would have been writing years before. I’m lucky to have a wonderful family and fabulous husband who put up with my dream of writing even when the house is a mess and the laundry’s piling up.  They hardly ever complain, and for that I love them even more.  Their support and encouragement mean the world to me.  Whether I hit the bestseller list or not, I think it’s safe to say this reformed drama queen is getting her happily ever after.  And because of that, she’ll go on putting words on paper, no matter where life takes her.