Writing is not something I dreamed about from an early age. In fact, I didn’t even try my hand at it until my forty-third birthday—and then only because I was looking for something I could do if I became bedridden, if my then-unknown ailment led to that.
I had always been creative, but in a more tactile way. And though I’m an avid reader, I didn’t start reading for pleasure until I was nineteen. Once I started, I couldn’t get my fill.
But never did I imagine I’d one day be putting my own words on paper; such a concept was completely unfathomable to me. Yet, once I had forgotten I couldn’t write, I discovered I was actually capable of spinning a yarn, making up characters out of whole cloth, giving them a series of dilemmas and letting them run wild. I was thrilled to discover I could string sentences together and weave plot lines to a satisfying conclusion. The day I finished the first book, I started on the second.
As soon as I realized how easy it was to focus my mind on something as constructive as developing characters and plots, the material began flowing nonstop. My only problem is keeping the various unwritten storylines in my head until I have time to write them.
The inspiration for some of my stories has come from real life events; others grew from the mere seed of an idea. If there is any common denominator among my books, I think it’s the examination of how we fit into this world, what it means to be human, and how we react to the challenges of life and love. I hope you will enjoy the characters in my stories as much I’ve enjoyed creating them. ~ Cynthia