I was born in Dawson Creek, British Columbia, Canada where I spent the first two years of my life in a lumber camp living in a one-room cabin where I slept in a cardboard box on the dirt floor.
My first pets were also my babysitters. A baby deer and a dog that was half wolf kept me from wandering off into the forest.
It’s embarrassing to admit but I am old enough to relate to little house on the Prairie because I started school in Progress, BC in a one-room schoolhouse. There was one row for each grade from first to six. In the middle of grade-one, I went to live with my Grandmother in Cardston Alberta, Canada.
When I was about ten years old the writing bug bit me and I started making up plays...coercing my two younger brothers and sister act them out... when Grandma came home from work.
It must have been comic relief for my Grandma because she always took the time to watch us even though I am sure she had a million other things she wanted to do. I graduated from writing bad plays to writing really bad poetry for years. It was avout 4 decades before I learned how to write a book.
In high school, I admired the work of several friends. I especially admired one friend who could write humor that was completely witty yet total nonsense.
My 20-year high school reunion was when I made my first bold and very public commitment to be a writer. Since I couldn’t make that reunion they asked me to send a letter stating what I was doing and what my goals were.
Being a writer sounded a lot more important than simply stating that I was simply a stay at home mom with six kids and a thin hold on sanity so I wrote saying that I was going to be a published author.
Ten years rolled on by and I snuck into my next reunion hoping everyone had forgotten my bold declaration. A short time after that, I discovered that my friend Charlotte had published a couple of stories in different magazines. I was instantly jealous. If she could write, well I could to.
I called Charlotte and started a writers group. After all, I needed someone who knew what they were doing. I began by writing pathetically poor stories about my family. If practice doesn’t make perfect it did get me published and that my dear friends is how I came to be writing this blog.
When I am crazy fed up with writing and I get there sometimes, I love to quilt, do choreography to swing music or music from the 1920’s. I love to shop garage sales, eat hot fudge sundaes, double the chocolate and nuts, and experiment with recipes for emergency preparedness. I also like to read, while I watch TV and do needlework at the same time.
