I received an unexceptional upbringing and the joy of my life, as it is for so many writers, was reading. I lived in a world of readers. My mother was always reading some book or the other and when, as children generally do, I dogged her for her attention while she read, she quickly taught me to read and I in turn, fell in love with books. I remember trying to read out the title of a ragged, dog-eared book that hung around the house, which went by the name of, “A Tale of Two Cities.” I made it through a few lines down the first page, at the age of six. None of it made any sense to me, but I was thrilled that I could read its title! The first book that was my very own was a popup book, a Russian fairytale about Tsarevich Ivan, a book I hold in the fondest memory and have tried, in vain, to track down (Alas! I lost my copy). Perhaps it is simply because of the loving glow in my memory when I remember my mother’s face, as she gave me the book as a Christmas present, but I have ever since loved fairy tales. Thank goodness, I am, as C. S. Lewis kindly promised, old enough to read and love fairytales again!
I finally committed to a career in writing after spending several years as a college professor, having earned a doctorate in family and human development. When my son was born, I decided to stay home with him for a few years and in the process, finally gave myself to writing for pleasure. Strangely, although motherhood taxes me—physically, mentally and emotionally—more than anything ever has, I find myself in an increasingly uncluttered state of mind. Perhaps children have a way of simplifying the world around us along with our view of it!
It is from this tidying of my mind that my first novel, Love and Mutiny: Tales From British India, emerged, not to mention the desire to simply tell a good story. While I plunged into writing with a question in my mind about the overarching goal I wished to accomplish, as I went along, I simply had great fun making things up along the way. I have since discovered that writing is a socially sanctioned means of getting away with telling lots and lots of fibs! I thoroughly enjoyed myself and had no thought apart from having fun, and entertaining anyone who read this book.
My family’s optimistic insistence that this was a splendid book urged me along. My husband, who generally cheers me on in life, suggested that I should definitely publish my plump collection of fibs, which was gaining in size by the day. My sister, who has read many fat and impressive books in her day, read a passage and asked to see more. Declaring it to be vastly entertaining, she pronounced that she couldn’t wait to see how it unfolded. My son showed his approbation by trying to tear off a page. And, if my dear mother’s delight at beholding my literary concoctions in my childhood (I was a prolific writer of terrible poems, which continually enthralled her, it seems) were any indication, she would be delighted beyond words (sadly, she passed away some years ago) to see me having such a jolly time!
Having finished the process, I have come to the conclusion that I wish to tell lots of good stories that entertain my readers and help them forget, if only briefly, the bewildering world outside the covers of my books. I hope you have had the time and the inclination to read my book. I hope also that you will stop to visit with me on this site whenever you wish to and that some nugget here will amuse and entertain you.