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My friends call me Elle.
I grew up in a suburb outside of Washington, DC with two very normal parents and an occasionally adorable little brother who ate my pet caterpillars and pillaged my Barbie Dream House. He got the super-high metabolism, great cheek-bones and long lashes. So unfair. I got the gift of vivid imagination. The ability to see something so clearly in my mind that it tends to become a reality. Some people call it goal-orientation, but I prefer to think of it as highly productive day-dreaming.
My love for story-telling started very young. Growing up, we always had books in our house. In elementary school I wrote my first epic poems and short stories about ponies and pirate kings and runaway boys in box car trains. Later, I wrote angst-ridden poetry by flashlight in my dorm room with the summer camp equivalent of The Dead Poet’s Society (all of which I eventually burned in a bonfire sacrifice to the goddess of ex-boyfriends and broken hearts).
I attended St. Mary’s College in Southern Maryland, a small liberal arts honors college, where writing was at the core of every academic concentration. I majored in Psychology and flip-flops, and reflected on my authentic self. I wrote… a lot.
But something strange happened after college, and I wandered into marketing, real estate and finance. I didn’t leave any breadcrumbs and I spent many years crunching numbers — they taste bland. The only writing I budgeted time for was the writing, re-writing, and editing of my professional résumé. My unwritten stories and my ridiculously high blood pressure both kept me awake at night.
Until a wise doctor said something that changed everything. He said “You are too young for your heart to stop beating.” He was right. It was a very Allison Reynolds/Breakfast Club moment. To realize I had grown up, and let my heart die.
So I started writing. And I re-discovered my heart. And I began living again.
I write in a tree house on the edge of the jungle on the Caribbean Sea. I like it here.
I have two beautiful sons. They fascinate me. They are the perfect — and completely random — combination of myself and my basement-of-the-science-building-übergeek husband, whom I’ve shared my life with since 1991. The toilet seats are usually up in our house. I fall in… a lot.
I listen to music way too loud. My iPod — like my head — is a crazy, eclectic mess. It’s always on.
Sometimes I cook a meal that doesn’t suck.
I write stories about scary things.
And I read… a lot.
I’ve written a few books that have won a few awards. I’m really proud of them. You can learn more about me and my books here.
I am represented by Sarah Davies of The Greenhouse Literary Agency.
Photo courtesy of Powell Woulfe Photography.