I was born to be a princess. I was a princess, for a while. My parents overcame the poverty of their youth by becoming extremely successful. My hometown was one of the most affluent places in the country. Giant oaks, old mansions, and flashy cars surrounded me. I spent my time showing horses and water-skiing behind my dad’s obscenely overpowered boat.
Princess Sandy died when a drunk driver hit my father head-on in 1964, killing him. Those words aren’t enough. My father died of suffocation, as bloods clots from his massive internal injuries broke loose, traveled through his veins, and lodged in his lungs.
My old life vanished. Through structures and systems I will not describe, I lived at a below poverty level income for a while. I could qualify for food stamps, yet I worried that I wasn’t doing enough charitable work. My brain still thought I was upper class.
What happened in the coming years opened my eyes. I’ve seen and lived the over-privileged existence I describe in the Bloodsong Series. I’ve seen how ephemeral its rewards are and how it warps those who are trapped by it. I’ve seen how it masks mental illness.
Want to know why a San Francisco-born, Silicon Valley-raised woman is so obsessed with Native Americans? After I’d drafted a few thousand pages of the Bloodsong books, I had this giant Ahah! At least half of the characters were Native Americans. Why? I don’t think I’d ever seen an Indian.
I realized that had lived the lite version of what happened to Native Americans. They had the kingdom––the entire continent––and lost it. I know how losing everything feels. They were treated abominably for centuries, and had the worst abuse hurled at them. Then they were asked, “What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you doing better, you lazy bums?” I know all about that, too, and much, much more.
My writing has a bite. My life has had a bite. Recovering from what happened to me has taken many years. But I have not just recovered, I have triumphed. What was legitimately mine came back to me, along with the fruit of my own labor. My husband––the love of my life––and I are almost embarrassingly harmonious. We’ve been together forty years. We live on our horse ranch, the most beautiful place I’ve seen.
If your life echoes the first, oh, fifty years of mine, you might find something for yourself in my books. My writing isn’t for everyone. I write about people getting better and the world working out, but its not always gentle and nice. A reviewer described my Mogollon as “equal parts horror, spiritual, romance, and action.” If that’s for you, you’re my reader.
I write visionary fiction, which is about making the world a better place. Why do I write that with the bio above? Because of I have had huge spiritual experiences all my life, as well as gentler ongoing guidance. Whatever is behind them and this earthly life wants me to sing my songs.
Now for my “regular bio”: I went to school a very long time and have two advanced degrees. I’ve had prestigious careers. My writing has won twenty-four national awards. I have three grown children and two grandchildren. I write a lot, and I’m happy.