Biography

    I started life in Chicago. As a military brat, it didn’t take long to understand that living more than eighteen months in one place was more than the government could fathom, so we moved a lot.  

    As a child, I was a dreamer, not a reader. Hmm, the first part of that last sentence is still true. Somewhere along the way daydreams progressed beyond a world where knives, forks and spoons had secret lives and dolls had tea parties and danced when left alone. Magic and the special ingredient called, what if, is still a part of most of my fantasies. 

    My life, after high school and before age forty, was pretty typical – chauffeur, cook and chief bottle washer, and meaningless jobs and husbands that lasted longer than they should have. All the normal everyday stuff that creates life, chaos and some stuff better left forgotten. Somewhere along the way, reading was added to the mix and it changed my life forever. 

    The empty nest syndrome lasted two point three seconds. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, my second life began. 

    Hypnosis, and a person’s reaction to what life presents them, has always fascinated me. When the opportunity to become a certified hypnotherapist presented itself, I jumped at the opportunity. Six months of training, and many four-day weekends over the next year, added up to over 300 hours of certified hypnotherapy training.

    With bits and pieces of different techniques from a wide variety of workshops and credited classes and a host of personal guides to help, I developed a unique healing process for hypnotherapy clients.

    My first attempt at writing was a four hundred, page tome describing that healing technique and how a person could use the process with self-hypnosis. Fortunately, the computer devil, the one that has managed to invade every computer I’ve owned, destroyed that masterpiece by convincing the hard drive to commit suicide. The angel of swift deaths also made sure the backup floppies were contaminated with gibberish that was, at times, more interesting than the book.

    The path that led to writing, Hocus Pocus wasn’t straight, short or complicated. Having read a book that was two pints of blood shy of having a living, breathing and compelling story line, I commented that I could write a better story.  Having made this comment one time too many, it was time to write or stop critiquing other people’s work. 

    In 1999, home became several acres of land nestled in a small valley an hour and a half drive from Boise, Idaho. Hours upon hours of road hypnosis, an over-active imagination and funny things that have happened when clients are hypnotized contributed to plotting the tales for the trilogy, Hocus Pocus, Abracadabra and Alacazam. 

    I’ve learned during this short lifetime that complaining doesn’t relieve stress or change anything.  You can talk anything to death, and the only person that can motivate you is you. If you don’t jump in feet first and try, you’ll always wonder if your dreams, could‘a, would‘a, should‘a, come true.

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