There is something really special about a crisp, clean, blank sheet of paper. It calls out to me for words, words that want to be written. Writing is something that has always come very naturally to me. It’s been a passion of mine for as long as I can remember. The most vivid memories for me are probably when I was just 12 years old and writing poems that bared my soul.  Those poems sparked a flame that would continue to burn for years to come. Little had I known at that age, that I had started on the road toward becoming an author.

A few years back I published my very first children’s book, “Bedtime for Meaghan“.  I wrote it for my daughter. It reflects the very special moments that we would share during her bedtime routine.  She always wanted a bedtime story, but not from just any old book.  No, she wanted me to create it myself.  So…create I did.  I would make up all sorts of stories, but she had a particular one that was her favorite.  Every night I would retell that story, each time adding another imaginative element.  It became harder and harder to remember the exact wording, so I decided to write it down in order to record every loving detail.  That’s the night that ”Bedtime for Meaghan” was born.

Since then I’ve had another child, a boy.  He’s been patiently waiting on his story.  Note to self…I must reward his patience with great illustrations, no pressure.  His story has been written for quite some time now and ready to go.  However, the illustrations on the other hand are not as easy to come by.  They always seem to take much longer.  Perhaps this is due to my inability to put down the eraser. I am a perfectionist that is far from perfect.  So I may take some time to develop the look while sketching and painting, but I will finish.  Just don’t ask me when.

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