I see the world from an eccentric perspective. A mystic since childhood, I’ve been a perennial student of life as well as a bard of sorts. My earliest struggle was to find a context to describe the way I see life to people who thought me evil or mad or both. As it turns out, they were right about the latter, for I was eventually diagnosed with bipolar disorder. But they couldn’t have been more wrong about the evil. The mystical part of me saw the divine in absolutely everything, and it was my burning need to describe that, which rendered me so strange in everyone’s eyes.
I responded by telling stories to myself, creating a framework that allowed me to explore my inner world. I could be my own hero there, something that I dared not try in public. Armed with my kittens, my books, and a dictionary, I plotted ways for my alter ego to triumph over the rigors of a broken childhood so that she could emerge as the hero in a shinier time.
No wonder I’m drawn to fiction.
The truth is that writing has been the one constant in my complicated life. I wrote my way through high school, earning national honors for journalism and poetry. College wasn’t so easy, as I had difficulty landing on a major. Of course, writing was the center of it all, but my interests blurred the lines between English, literature, journalism, and alas, marketing. In the end, I excelled at everything I wrote, but did not fare so well in the left-brain disciplines.
I entered the workforce as a newly divorced mother of two, who had no references and thus, started at the bottom. But I wrote my way up the ladder. I volunteered for menial things like employee handouts and meeting invitations. Soon, I was in charge of the company newsletters and had salesmen and execs making appointments for me to write their letters. All of which was nice, but still too left-brained for me.
So, at night, when my kids were asleep, I wrote poetry and editorials and features for offbeat magazines, because those things fed my soul. I traded my 18 years of classical piano lessons for a gig with a rock and roll band so I could set my stories to music. And somehow, I managed to juggle it all with mood swings, motherhood, a permanent job, and the relentless need to find an outlet for my words.
I was graced with a second chance when I met my hubby. He understood me and supported my need to further explore my inner domains. My family finally grounded, I ventured into the esoteric realms I had not dared tread before. My hubby introduced me to books on quantum theory, which nourished my mystical nature and helped me realize that magic might not be all that far-fetched. So I investigated elemental magic, which made total sense to me. I should mention that in my quest to understand my mystical nature, I completed a three-year seminary program and studied religion all through college. Oddly enough, none of the esoterica or new physics contradicted anything I learned in all of those religious classes.
More fodder for my tales.
Eventually, the bipolar mood swings took their toll, and I retired from a high level corporate position to the solitude of the woods.
I traipse my lifeline
delight and despair
force of will
A bit bloodied and bowed, I deepened my studies into the nature of nature and I wrote. I volunteered for a non-denominational women’s center and wrote their newsletters, press releases, and classes in mysticism for fundraisers. I also began editing my hubby’s first novel, which taught me the discipline necessary to write my own books.
Most recently, I helped my hubby with his entrepreneurial coaching business, which eventually featured “Kitty’s Five Minute Lessons” — little uplifting stories that I shared with crowds that ranged from 100 people to over 3,000.
And I wrote Boann’s Daughters.
At this point, I am settled and stable and thrilled with my life. By my own account, I have become a wise woman with relevant stories to share and the time and passion to do so.
Nice to meet you!