To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember. I started writing stories as soon as I learned how to print. I didn’t know how to spell though, and that old witch always ‘thew’ me into her pot. I gave up the horror stories pretty quick and started reading Harlequin romances in junior high. The school library had a huge collection of them, and I read nearly every one.
When I went to college, I started reading historical romances. I loved reading fairy tales as a kid, and historical romances felt like fairy tales with a little something extra. One weekend when I was home for a visit, my mom flipped through one of the books I was reading (back then they were called bodice rippers—and for good reason). She had no trouble finding the ‘good parts’ since the spines were trained to open to the exact page where the action started. She didn’t say a word, but I never saw that book again. I hid my stash from her after that.
I was an English Education major, but I really had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I liked to read and after taking a creative writing class, I remembered I liked to write. When it came time to start my student teaching, I was sent to observe a speech class. Speech? No, I wanted to write. I dropped the education part of my major and graduated with an English degree and advice that I could do anything I wanted with it.
Fast forward ten years or so…. I was married, closing in on my thirties and working at one of many jobs I hated. I was also starting to experiment sexually. (At 30? Yup, long story so I’ll save that for another time.) I had a subscription to Playgirl, and I spent more time reading the stories than looking at the pictures. (No, really.) Readers were encourages to send in short stories so I sent three. Two of them were published. One was chosen as fantasy of the month. (I’ll post that one later.) I’ve been hooked on writing romance and erotica ever since.
My mom still doesn’t know….
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