In the summer of 2014, my youngest son was completely bored with the books on his shelf, and we still had so much summer vacation left to fill. It had been difficult getting him to read. Finding him a series he would stick with had always been challenging. I was forever on the lookout for anything that would keep him reading. So I set out to write a simple ghost story that would hold his attention. When it was done, I entrusted that manuscript to my husband to get it printed out for the kids and allowed him to read one of my stories for the first time. That story turned out to be The Ghost of Forlorn Lane. From the beginning, my husband really liked it and encouraged me to publish it. It was one thing to write stories for my kids; it was another thing entirely to put it out before the public eye. I wasn’t ready then, and I didn’t feel the story was at that point either.

     Shortly after writing Forlorn Lane, I realized that I needed to write a second YA Paranormal book. This time from a girl’s perspective, for my youngest daughter. I pulled out an old outline I had been toying with for years, gave it a new direction, revamped the Happy Haunts, and added Bob-o-Matic (AKA Sergeant Reed) as a character. Before I knew it, I had a rich story line that was begging to be told.

     Before I could finish the ending, my first grandchild made an appearance into the world, and my personal life became busier than I could have anticipated. I was now a full-time Grandma and still had my own youngest kids at home. The writing had to be put aside for the time being, but I hadn’t forgotten the characters I created.

     It was in the midst of this busy time that I lost my daughter quite unexpectedly. Nothing in my life has been the same, nor will it be again. Dreams and goals I had made for myself were all but forgotten as we tried to come to grips with what had happened to our family. The first year went by in a blur. The second year hit so much harder than the first it knocked the wind out of me. I am told that this isn’t unusual. In the third year, I became proactive with my healing and consciously stepped away from the heavier grief.

     I began to reach out, to explore the metaphysical world, and I started to follow an inner voice I had ignored for so many years. In honoring that voice, I was rewarded with confirmation and signs everywhere that I was finally headed on the right path.  It was time to pick up my dreams and march forward with them. It was laid on my heart that this was my time to start writing again. In writing, I found purpose, healing, and so many meaningful things. I still mourn the loss of my daughter. But in reworking my first two books and finally giving Hidden Lake it’s ending, I found that I could live in the present and find joy again. I could pick up my goals and work towards them, and I could make my daughter proud and honor her at the same time.

     These aren’t just books to me; they are anchors to a life I can enjoy again. I discovered that my dreams are still there, they are just slightly different from those I had before. I don’t expect everything to be the same because I am not the same. Even these stories are different from the first drafts I wrote. In a lot of ways, I like them better. I feel like they are stronger than the originals because I am stronger on the inside. And I cannot express how grateful I am that I found my voice again and can now continue in the storytelling that I have grown so much to love.