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I am Lisa and I am a writer.
I write because I have to. My pen to paper is as important to my existence as the perpetual motion of my lungs or the beats of my heart. It might sound overly dramatic, but, okay, I might be prone to bits and fits of drama myself from time to time.
I grew up the baby baby of the family. Ten years younger than the next sibling in line, and 14 years younger than the oldest. With no peer to talk to in my house growing up, my paper became my peer, and my pen my voice. While other kids enjoyed running through the streets and climbing trees, I preferred writing about running through the streets and climbing trees. I’d lose myself in letters to Donny Osmond, David Cassidy, or whoever my real life school crush was on any given day. Journals stacked up starting in elementary school and continue to be filled from cover-to-cover today. I wrote our school plays. I wrote for the yearbook. It was the cheers I wrote that won me a slot as a wrestling cheerleader my junior year; it certainly wasn’t my ability to jump or do the splits. But I wrote darn good, crowd-pleasing cheers.
My goal in writing is to make the reader feel my intention. Whether it’s a child reading one of my picture books, or someone who lost their mother reading my memoir, my goal is to make them say “Yes!” To make the reader step into the world I’m creating, pull up a chair next to one of the characters, and immerse themselves in my universe.
A friend of mine once said, “You write sad.” I like to believe that it isn’t sad that I write, but it is my heart that comes out in my words. And through my heart, and my work, I hope to touch those who are open to receiving whatever message it is they need at the time.
To the young, I hope to mentor. To the young at heart, I hope to relate. To thine self, I will ALWAYS be true.
You have my word.
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