"The first clue that something was amiss should have been the bright lights, the strange feeling of someone's hand on my ass, the piercing wails of a stupid baby crying, and the realization that the stupid baby was me." And so began the story of my life. I was the only girl in a house full of boys and the baby of the family. So, to say I was overprotected is an understatement. There wasn't anything I did that wasn't supervised and getting time alone to do anything was a precious commodity. I learned to escape through make believe; before I learned to write I played out my stories with dolls and short plays I only performed when on my own. When I could write, I began to expand my stable of imaginary friends and created characters that were amalgamations of people I'd met and family and friends. As I got older I became interested in stories with a criminal bent, of people who didn't particularly follow the straight and narrow and rules were just suggestions. The stories I write tend to be character driven. I write what my characters whisper in my ear.