I wonder if I am predisposed to fall irrevocably in love with the characters I spend most time with. Why is that? Habit? Comfort? I invest myself so deeply into their realms of madness/chaos/love/conquest/triumph. I can’t help it. It’s simply the way the complexity that is my brain; works. It’s so truly imaginative.

It’s why I love reading. I escape into different worlds. I escape thoroughly. I’ve been this way since I began reading novels on my own, grade two I think. First ever, Swimmer.

You always remember your first…

It’s about a boy, his dog, and the messiness of life.

Here we are some 25 years later and it is still as real to me as ever. Losing my self into the world marked down in keystrokes and ink.

I’ve lived a crazy life thus far. I’ve met the need for perseverance and trust – in a world that so many times is just plain untrustworthy.

How have I managed? Aside from my deep scottish blood – the fight that keeps me going, that runs so deep in my veins that it’s imprinted on my soul. My intuitive heart, a gift from God? Of course but also from my ancestors before me. Those that are one with the land. Respecting creation and in it the creator. I am a romantic. To the very core. I live in a world of mystery. I think this above all else is why I am so easily comforted by the characters in my books. On my pages. I believe in magic. I believe in the magic of the world. In a small way – this is my consolation for the darkness that envelopes me.

Read. Engage in the magic. I dare you to try.

Quiet the outside world for a time and let your self be free.

Insert [deep melancholic sigh].

Time to come back to the real world and carry on with my day.



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