It was senior year of high school. All of my classmates were purposefully applying to colleges, certain about what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. Some wanted to be lawyers. Some doctors. A fair share actors and actresses, others teachers, engineers, physicists, art historians, musicians, and film makers.
Then there was me. I didn’t want to go to college. I wanted to work. But I didn’t really want to work either. What I really wanted to do—and ALL I wanted to do—was read.
Hmm. A thought-provoking predicament.
One I solved by reasoning that if I became a writer, then and only then could I spend the rest of my life reading. So I should make writing my life work!
And I did.
Luckily, I also managed to draw upon the encyclopedic knowledge of my late, great husband, Supervising Fire Marshal and Special Agent, Charles G. King. When Charlie retired from the New York City Fire Department, he taught me about criminals and he taught me about crime; he taught me how to collect and photograph evidence, how to interview witnesses, and how to investigate fires. Eventually, we started our own company, and I became a private detective and certified fire investigator. As I put in the years, dozens of book and story ideas began to tumble into my head, all dealing—some more, some less—with arson, human nature, and crime.
And that is what I write about…except when (and it’s happening more and more lately) I am gripped by an uncontrollable impulse, and I write about people who don’t commit crimes.
Welcome to my world of forensics, fire, people, fantasy, reality, whimsy…this and that.
So happy to make your acquaintance!