simcec

My journey into writing began with a pest infestation.
Some authors have poetic origin stories—mine started with bugs.
After moving into a new house, we were greeted by an unexpected and very much non-rent-paying infestation of long-tailed paper silverfish. Hideously large creatures clung to every wall and contently munched the wallpaper.
It was a problem we had unknowingly inherited.
Or, as our exterminator—whom I got to know far too well over countless cups of coffee—put it: “We’ve never seen anything like this.”
There are some records you just don’t want to break.
Six months of daily battles and nightly hunting missions pushed me to the edge of insanity.
My usual creative outlet, drawing, was on hold—I couldn’t even hang my artwork because the little pests loved to hide behind it. Or worse—eat it.
With my main artistic hobby temporarily knocked out, I needed something to take my mind off the wallpaper, which I had started scanning obsessively for unwanted roommates.
So, I threw myself into a new creative project: writing.
Just like my husband told me 12 years ago when we first started dating: “I think you should write. That’s your calling.”
And what can I say? Two years and seven books later, I’m ready to publish my first series.
The silverfish are gone.
Writing stayed.
And it has become my passion, my peace of mind, and maybe the greatest gift I’ve given myself in a long time.
Well—aside from our sweet rescue pup, Poppy, who finally got to move in once the infestation was gone.