Anne is a writer living in Vancouver, BC. She moved to Canada age 6 from England and spent months telling the other children at school that she was not a kid because a kid is a baby goat. Her stubborn streak never quite disappeared but eventually she decided to embrace being Canadian even if they used different words.
The highlight of her elementary years was playing Cinderella with her twin sister in the school play. She was ballgown Cinders; her twin was Cinders in rags. The other
girls parents were not impressed about the lack of an audition. Life may have handed the Grade 5 girls their first taste of a backroom deal, but Anne was too blinded by the ballgown to care.
She has had a secret entitlement complex ever since and is still dealing with accepting reality. Acceptance is a tough one.
Anne marvels at how the only thing she remembers from grade school (other than Cinderella) is the Dreidel Song. Thank you Mrs. Harris. No really. THANK YOU.
Her first job was at a health food store in the days when yogurt raisins were considered leading-edge AND healthy. The next job was at a garden centre where she may not have known a lot about plants but she sure sold a lot of potentilla. After stints as a camp counselor, waitress, deck hand, daycare worker (two days), theatre box office attendant, bartender, telemarketer for dance tickets, Greenpeace canvasser (two hours), environmental researcher (fridges), government call desk worker, technical writer, website master and web marketing writer (fifteen years), she now writes books. At some point in between, Anne went to McGill University in Montreal, met a few kindred spirits and escaped with an Honours English degree.
In her twenties she went on the requisite backpacking trail, traipsing through Russia, India, Nepal, Indonesia, Australia and Fiji. She gradually metamorphosed from cowering in her hotel room with a rat in the corner to prancing around in local garb and downing local water (which may be related to the point above about accepting reality). But the one place that did her in was the last stop on her trip: New York City. She spent hours stranded in the airport unable to get out because she had never heard of 10 digit local phone numbers.
Those days are past, and Anne now understands the telephone system and has three children…two girls and the youngest is a
goblin, boy. She likes to buy balls of wool and watch them pile up in a corner in her living room so that she can pretend to be crafty. (She tells herself she’s preparing for the next life. It’s the only thing she’s ever done ahead of time.) She continues to be amazed at her ability to ignore dirt and balls of wool.
You can reach Anne at anne @ pepperwriting. com or at 604 709 8155