Since the beginning she knew better than anything how to make stories.
A
sneaky suspision tells her that everything and everybody she has
encountered so far came her way for the purpose of her stories.
Hans
Christian Anderson was breathing down her neck and reading over her
shoulder after all, as she lived a life in Denmark before this one, in
California.
Indeed,
like any reasonable writer, she has lived many short lives within the big one. One was as a
traveler supported by the airline industry. With a BA in languages from
Copenhagen she set out to meet the world while building an
international career.
In
her next life she was as a sailor. Sailing the
northern European oceans and canals, racing, and finally running a
sailing school in Sausalito, California, provided lots of stories, not
all of which have been written quite yet.
Then came children, the best adventure anyone could wish for, the
most glorious of all journeys...
Somewhere in time she went back to school and earned a Master's degree in creative writing and art history.
But like in any good story this heroine had to face some nasty challenges.
A business risk for what seemed noble and right reasons landed her in the land of non-plenty for way too long.
Lots
of new story material she would have never had been able to think up,
makes her wonder if she did it on purpose - for the even nobler sake of
stories.
She is currently in the process of creating the next chapter....
______________
I write for me, for you, for my neighbors, strangers, my kids and the people who hire me.
I also write about me, about you and and the neighbors and the strangers, my kids and the people who hire me.
Maybe it was something you said, a gesture, the twinkle in your eyes...
You are all material, you are all my friends, and you are all part of my life.
Please excuse me if I use you in my stories. It's not personal. It's fiction.
It's writing. It's what I do best.