My Life and Other Bizarre Tales

I'm a writer—you'd think I'd be able to write a simple bio.

Wrong. Totally wrong. Do you know how many times I've started this? Do you know how many drafts I've been through? I don't go through so many drafts with my manuscripts. But enough whining. I'm going to buck up and do this.

Sigh.

Nate and me in Mexico, May 2005, for a friend's wedding. Nate calls this picture Warpheads in Paradise. It's snapped by the groom's mom, Candace, who also took my official photos.

Why do you want to know about me, anyway? I mean, I'm not that interesting. You don't want to know that I wake up every morning, go to the gym, take a shower, work for a few hours, take a nap, work some more, and then hang out with Nate—do you? Isn't that kind of boring? Of course, all that's punctuated by eating and reading.

Nate! Nate's exciting. He's my love. (Is that something you want to know?) I could write all day about Nate—he's that interesting—but you're here to learn about me.

Okay—let's start with my defining characteristic.

I asked my family and a couple good friends what that would be. They all replied with a resounding, "You're stubborn." Sniff. I'd have thought it'd be that I'm supportive and loving, but fine. Stubborn it is. (Don't worry—they're all getting coal for Christmas this year.) Actually, now that I think about it, stubborn isn't so bad. Stubborn is the reason I got published.

A-ha! That's a story to tell.

Okay, so one day I went to work and, much to my surprise, I got offered a promotion to work from anywhere in the world to start a new division over which I'd have ultimate control. I thought about it for maybe twenty seconds before I said, "No thanks. I think I'll just quit."

Don't listen to Nate—I'm a gypsy here, not a hippie. All I wanted when I grew up was to be a gypsy. In France. With a bull named Philippe.

Then I had a brilliant idea. Instead of finding another job I'd hate, I'd figure out what I loved and do that.

Ha! Easier said than done. But, like I always do when I need sage advice, I talked with Andre, my Kung Fu instructor. (Imagine a cross between Yoda and Mr. Miyagi, only African-American.) He told me to make a list of my passions.

I love lists, so I went to it with great enthusiasm. Books were right up there on my list (next to Nate and food). It got me thinking: I read all the time, why not try writing?

So I wrote two books in a year and a half, joined the RWA, and learned a ton about the industry. I wrote a few more books, got an agent, and sold what became Project Daddy. From the time I started till the day I sold, I wrote eight manuscripts.

Moral of the story: if you want to get published you have to

Snoozing yet?

Hey—I told you I wasn't that interesting. But if you're a masochist and want more, email me and I'll answer your questions.