I always danced to a different drummer.  I never fit in with the ‘in’ crowd.  I wasn’t a nerd, I wasn’t an athlete, and I wasn’t a straight A student.  I barely cracked a book and was happy with A’s and B’s giving me a high B average.  I was bored and ignored in school.

     I did a lot of daydreaming and spent most of the time with my nose in a book.  I wrote bad teenaged angst filled poetry and short stories.  I loved my art and English classes.

     My junior year of high school I had an English teacher that managed to light a spark.  At first I frustrated her because I’d read every book on her book list.  Then she made another list.  I messed her up on that one too since I’d already read over half of those books.  She didn’t give up.  She saw something in me that most teachers had overlooked.  She’d never had a student quite like me.  I had a passion for reading and writing.  She never stopped pushing and prodding me the whole year. 

     For years afterwards, I put that passion for writing aside, busy with working and keeping house.  Then one day I began to write again.