As long as I can remember, I have had a long fascination with history. In elementary and secondary school, I always had my nose stuck in some historical book or another, reading everything from the north and south sagas by John Jakes to non-fiction books such as “Bury my heart at Wounded Knee”. In grade eight I read my first historical romance, a young adult novel that took place during the American Civil War. I fell in love immediately with the historical romance genre and have been reading it ever since.
Being some what of a pack rat when it comes to old assignments and writing projects, I was going through some old files not too long ago and came across an old folder containing the beginning of a novel I started when I was fifteen. Though terribly written and filled with cliché’s and stereotypes, it was a vivid reminder of my early desire to write. It was a dream I had deemed foolish and unattainable at that time, so I packed it away along with my desire and confidence to write.
It wasn’t until twelve years later the hankering to write would revisit me. It all started after reading several novels by two of my favourite authors: Lorraine Heath and Penelope Williamson. Their books moved me in a way few authors had, pulling and tugging at my emotions to the point I would be laughing and crying all in the same chapter. Masters in characterization, plot, and setting, I was pulled instantly into the world they created and I didn’t want to come home. After reading Penelope Williamson’s gut wrenching Heart of the West, followed by Lorraine Heath’s riveting “Texas Destiny” I said to myself: “I want to be able to do that! I want to reach readers the same way they reach me, by pulling on people’s heart strings and giving happily–ever–after endings.”
I decided to give writing another try. I started attending writing workshops and took a writing course. I played around with several plots and began to map out a story. Within a year of making that decision however, I found out the single kidney I was born with, was failing. This was a big “wake up call,” now that I was facing an unknown future. It made me realize life is too short not to follow my dreams. With the support of my family, I made the decision to complete my first novel–no matter how long it took. So began my quest to become an accomplished author.
Although I was lucky to go through only three years of dialysis (due to a successful kidney transplant, donated by my very loving and giving husband), it took me eight years to accomplish my goal. With one manuscript now under my belt, a second in the works, I will continue to improve my craft and work towards my next goal, to get published.