Suffice to say I was raised in a hostile environment that didn’t encourage discovery or growth. I wasn’t allowed to graduate high school (because that would shine a light on my achievements), and “no” was a dangerous word in my home, so it wasn’t in my vocabulary. Ever.

I dampened down, became small, and didn’t have a voice. As I got older I became a chameleon. I copied what I liked about others and faked my way through life. From hairstyles to handwriting. If someone asked for my opinion I’d panic, get that familiar lump in my throat, and as my heart raced, I desperately  searched my soul for one original thought. But, crickets … absolutely nothing.

By the time I was in my thirties my inner editor demanded a total rewrite. With a pencil tucked behind my ear, a lot of blank paper on which to write, and the help of talented co-editors (counselors :)), my brand new script began to emerge. A riveting, can’t put the book down, page-turner story unfolded.