I am a writer, someone that expresses herself better through quotes, written words, paragraphs or pages, stories that happened to strangers or people known for ages, heroes or villains rather than spoken word.
Put me in a spacious room full of people, a microphone in hand and I loose my voice and mind. Words come out shaky, with no power and voice not loud enough to be heard by the curious faces gathered around me. All I think of are the books whose stories put me at ease, calm me and give me the opportunity to create my own world. This is what I am comfortable with – surrounded by old pals that understand and allow me to take my time in telling a story. Friends that are patient enough to wait years to read stories filled with happiness and sadness, adventure and stagnation, grief and joy, loss and gain.
I want to express what I am feeling, thinking and hoping, who I am in stories such as these and leave a mark in a world in need of fiction. I want to bring to life the characters of my stories, give them worth and a reason to stick in the readers minds, days, weeks after the last page was turned, the book closed.