I am Panic’s whore.
When I was nineteen years old and on an academic scholarship at Auburn Unviersity, I developed a chronic panic disorder. Over the next six years I fought the beast called Panic with my bare knuckles…
I had to drop out of school, I couldn’t get a job and eventually I couldn’t get out of my bedroom. Panic had me by the throat and I was slowly dying.
My parents and my doctor entered the fight.
Slowly, we fought back. I was diagnosed with having a chemical disorder in my brain. While it couldn’t be corrected, its affects could be curbed with medication… strong medication that brought its own monsters of Exhaustion and Anxiety into the fray.
I refuse to surrender the war, although I must admit defeat in several huge battles.
I proudly step out into the world every day and dance in the sunshine I missed for so many years…. but still I remain chained to Panic’s bedframe. The links are solid and their length is shrinking. Every few years, my medication must be upped as the Panic inside me morph’s into a fiercer, wilier beast. Now it is the medication that leashes me to the dark too often.
But I continue to fight… and every so often I win.
I returned to school, and got a Bachelors in Art History with a minor in Literature in 2000. Two years later I moved to Florida and fought tooth and nail for my Masters in Ancient Art History that I received in 2005. I danced across the stage.
For three years after, I wrote. The beast had grown so that I could no longer attend school and could no longer hold any type of job. Writing was my would-be savior… truly, my only hope for independence.
In 2009, the tide changed and brought with its fresh waters success. First, a short story was bought. Then, another short story was asked by a publisher to be turned into a full-length novel. That novel is Forever Bound. One week after my book was published, I was asked to write a second novel for Ravenous Romance…
In April of 2016, I completed my 18th novel, The Hushing Days (my first full-length mainstream romance.) Wow, indeed.
I love my days of writing… and when Panic still pulls me to his bedstead, I survive it.
I am Panic’s whore, but I am not his bitch.