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I write. I want to be a writer when I grow up. Actually, I AM a writer. With or without a reader. But, the thought of strolling through my favourite bookstore and seeing MY book glossy and overpriced perched on a shelf sends chills. That would mean that I did it. I allowed a critic among dusty books and too much knowledge actually critique my work and that makes me…terrified. I keep reminding myself, ‘There are no statues of literary critics, art critics, or even music critics . . .’ So, I keep writing. I face the fear.

Fear aside, my life is quite spectacular and I know many a girl who would kill for a life as such. Ok, perhaps not kill but leave a life of cotton fields and debutantes for something a bit more panache. I was born into this lifestyle, one of cotton fields and southern sweetness. One that resembled anything but metropolitan and underneath my proud southern façade, I fancied cosmopolitan; an urbane lifestyle of refinery and vivacity. I wanted to trade in my southern roots for a taxi hailing, city street roaring, à la mode city chic-er (or slicker for that matter). Unfortunately, where I was raised, an à la mode was a dessert dish at a locally owned downtown café served with a scoop of homemade ice cream and an oversized tumbler of sweet iced tea. It was far from an adventurous afternoon having afternoon tea at The Ritz, yet it was home.

Until it wasn’t.

When the internet and online chatting was still slightly new and ‘scary’ , I was at the ripe age of sixteen. I met a British boy and we fell in love. He knew me under a ‘pen’ name for over a year due to my parent’s apprehension of the unknown. Ten years later, I married him and left the land of muddy waters and the Mississippi River and braved the 5,000+ mile flight to England, the mother land where I began a new life.

I haven’t looked back since.

So , this is where I write my story - my life abroad as an American expat living amongst all things British. The journey of leaving my southern magnolia roots and finding my inner bloom and becoming an English rose.... Only time will tell.

Until then, I write.