I always knew, at least on some level that I was to be an author. I printed my name inside the front cover of every Little Golden Book in our house. Those same storybooks now are part of my home library. Then, again obvious when I would write and hand my work to anyone to read, just to watch them read, seeing their face change, knowing where they were and that what I had written could alter their expression. Connection. Never spent a single second or stamp sending in any of my words to publishing houses or writing contests. That wasn't the dream back then. Being censored or edited or rejected was not part of the plan. Researching traditional marketing pathways I soon found myself discontent with modern ways. I was searching for my voice. I love authors who have their own. There was something pioneering, adventurous, even daring about writing words and finding a path for words to travel. So here I am. Writing and finding that pathway. My dream now? That someone two hundred years from now will find a copy of my work and it will still hold value.

Writing Dear Daisy and finding the pathway; self publishing and Rising Sparrow Press.