Riding Ryder (13 page)

Biography

Ever since I won not one, but two Cadbury “Where does chocolate come from?” competitions in primary school, I was convinced one day I would write a book. Lots of books.

My parents encouraged me. My schoolteachers despaired of me. (Evidently reading a story in your math class was not acceptable, even if you had finished the assignment!) Flowery. Romantic. Not factual. All leveled at me and all true. Hey, I loved weaving stories about anything and anyone.

So what happened to my grand ideas?

Life got in the way—as it does.

A couple of truly awful manuscripts were sent off and duly, and rightfully, rejected. I gave up on my dreams.

More years later than I’m prepared to disclose (Hey, a woman has to have some secrets!) I realized I’d been writing as I thought I should, not as I could. It was my “eureka” moment.

I dusted off my almost non-existent typing skills and decided now was my chance. With more than a little coercion from my lovely crit group, Up And Coming Writers, I got typing. The ideas came fast and furious, and here I am, a published author.

Married to my own hero (how cheesy is that?) after a couple of failed hero attempts, we live on the edge of a Scottish forest with two cats, three children, and a daughter-in-law as frequent visitors. And now two grandkids. Lucky or what?

I write on my laptop in my study, watching the birds on the bird table, the strange big, black, fluffy, I’m-pretending-to-be-a-bird cat, sitting on it and trying to convince the many real birds he is invisible; occasionally seeing deer and red squirrel moving past. I am privileged.

As a non-closet romantic, sometime neurotic, and lover of words, I so enjoy getting involved with my hero and heroines. I hope you do too.