I was born half a world away, in the crowded, steamy city of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. My most vivid memories of that time in the 60’s are of my dad yelling out our first story apartment window to scare away a car thief who was trying to make off with our automobile; a burgler who apparently came to lighten us of some valuables, but stopped to eat a papaya from our fridge (we found a half-eaten papaya on the floor the next morning); and the ghost I saw in my bedroom one night – but that’s another story.
When I was five, we moved to Singapore, a carefully-manicured city of cleanliness and order. Under its then-ruler, Lee Kuan Yew, even chewing gum was a no-no, and men were forbidden to have long hair. It’s such a small island, one could practically spit to the opposite coast — if spitting was allowed, that is.
Then at ten, it was on again to Hong Kong. No, my dad was not in the military. He was just a roving architect. Actually, the moves were for better job opportunities and then to be closer to my mom’s family in Hong Kong. Here, I attended a very Harry-Potteresque British high school, said ‘to-mah-to’ instead of ‘to-may-to’ and thought it cool to pepper my speech with ‘Bloody Hell.’ You see, schools in Malaysia and Singapore back then were taught in English, and my mom had to decide if my education should continue in English or in my native Cantonese (which wasn’t so native anymore because of said education in English), and she finally decided that I had enough to deal with (new school, new friends, new country) without having to learn in a different language.
Much as I disliked secondary school and all the stuffy authoritative teaching attitudes, it was here in Mr. Harry’s (Yep, that was his name. I’m not making it up) First Form English class (roughly seventh grade in the American system) that I got turned on to writing. Our assignment was to create an island and make up its towns and landmarks, including mountains and rivers. It was my first experience at creating an imaginary world and it was a blast.
In 1979, I came to California and attended Dominican College (now Dominican University) in San Rafael, a small liberal arts college just north of San Francisco. I began as a Psychology major, but wanted to pursue my love of writing and graduated with a B.A. in English Literature with a Writing Emphasis. Then it hit me. Unless I was as prolific and successful as Stephen King, I’d better have a backup job. So, I went back to psychology, and received my M.S. in Counseling Psychology in 1986, also from Dominican.
Most of my work career has been in counseling or social work. I worked in residential treatment centers, group homes, and finally, with Mendocino County Child Protective Services before I left to take care of my growing family full time. Along the way, I’ve written articles for regional and national magazines and newspapers, and Otto’s Rainy Day.
Now, as a mother of three young children, finding the time to write is like finding a needle in a haystack. But I plug away — one word at a time, in between diaper changes, gymnastic classes and soccer practices. And who knows? My next published book just might be born on the sidelines of a soccer game.