This is the place where I’m supposed to tell everything about me, thereby convincing readers of my mind-blowing awesomeness. That will then cause said readers to lose control and rush to purchase everything I’ve ever written or will write.

Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen.

Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m just not that interesting. I’m a wife, mother, daughter, cousin, niece, aunt, and … well, you get the picture. I live in a small Southern town with my husband and we have two grown sons. My sons often assure me that I’m getting old–actually they claim I reached that stage a long time ago. Yet I blissfully refuse to believe them.

Denial is a wonderful thing.

I grew up in a large American city to which I have no desire to ever return. Small town life is for me. But I’ve also had the privilege of living outside the US. In fact, someday I’ll have a second home in Germany and live there part of the year. Well, it’s possible. Maybe. Ok, not likely unless I strike it rich with the lottery.

But I can always dream.

Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies? I enjoy reading, like that’s a surprise. I appreciate beautiful flowers but hate gardening. In my world, if a plant survives on its own without any attention from me, I’ve got a winner. I love singing, but since I’m completely tone-deaf, that’s not a useful hobby. I don’t sew, knit, or crochet–probably because watching paint dry sounds more exciting. I’m not much of a sports fan, though in a male dominated household, sports are part of life. But the truth is, sports make my eyes glaze over. While the guys are enthralled by the game on TV, I’m silently analyzing ads, criticizing player uniforms, or observing fan behavior. I figure if anything important happens, the wild cheering or inconsolable groaning will clue me in and I’ll catch it on the replay. In my free time, you’ll usually find me glued to a chair in front of my little corner desk, typing away on my laptop.

Clearly, my life is a thrill a minute.

If you’ve read this far, you’ll know that I don’t always take things seriously. Except writing. I’m serious about writing, even when I don’t write seriously. Back in the Dark Ages when I was in school, I never thought much about writing. At the time, history took my breath away. But in the past few years, writing has gradually wormed its way into my heart and set up a permanent home. In life, I’m eclectic and don’t like too much routine. I write the same way. I currently have several books on the market, a half dozen others in various genres and stages of production, and myriads of stories swirling in my head.

Too many stories, too little time. Sigh.