Adventure diva, geek, artist & storyteller.
(You had me at string theory…)
I was supposed to have been born on April 1st. What a magnificent jest of God that would have been.
But as usual, I was late for my own party, and showed up on the fourth. The fourth day of the fourth month at four p.m., “just in time for tea with the Queen”, my mother would say. She had roses delivered to the door every year, one for each year of my birth, and threw me elaborate tea parties with petit fours that she made herself. And that’s where the magic started.
My mother was the original Adventure Diva, you see. She knew how to live large, and live fully. She taught me the art of dreamstorming, and expecting too much, and giving even more. She taught me to not be disappointed when things went south, and to see the divine serendipity in those things.
Fancy Nancy, as my mother was known, set me on a collision course with fate. For if everything was magic, and there was magic in every thing, then there was also a story to be told. Draw it, paint it, write it, play it … it didn’t matter. There was a hundred different ways to breath life into dreams, and tell the tale. And so I did.
Wilma Maguire set my feet on the stage when I wrote my first play in grade two. It was bloody awful, but she had the class perform it before the entire school, and gave me a taste of what it felt like to beckon a legion of souls to suspend belief, and inhabit the realm of a conjured truth. Wilma Maguire wasn’t just a teacher. She was my first true muse.
Many others have followed, teaching me how to draw, and paint, and point and shoot; how to write grand tales and tell tall truths; how to act and direct; how to play piano, and guitar and clarinet; how to render pixels into fantastic games; even giving me a geek’s true soapbox for a decade on Canada’s national radio network. I learned how to tell tales in more mediums than there are crayons in a box, and I fell in love.