I see the world from an eccentric perspective. A mystic since childhood, I’ve been a perennial student of life as well as a bard of sorts. My earliest struggle was to find a context to describe the way I see life to people who thought me evil or mad or both. As it turns out, they were right about the latter, for I was eventually diagnosed with bipolar disorder. But they couldn’t have been more wrong about the evil. The mystical part of me saw the divine in absolutely everything, and it was my burning need to describe that, which rendered me so strange in everyone’s eyes.
I responded by telling stories to myself, creating a framework that allowed me to explore my inner world. I could be my own hero there, something that I dared not try in public. Armed with my kittens, my books, and a dictionary, I plotted ways for my alter ego to triumph over the rigors of a broken childhood so that I could emerge as the hero in a shinier time.
No wonder I’m drawn to fiction.