It’s all Moon-face’s fault! I don’t remember how old I was when I stumbled into The Enchanted Wood but I do remember how I felt. Enchanted. I fell into Enid Blyton’s magical world and never wanted to come out. But it was Moon-face that really got me hooked. He was my first crush and the beginning of a life-time love of falling-in-love.
I’d read all the usual fairytales and like most girls wished I was Cinderella or Snow White and occasionally the Evil Queen but not so I could have the prince. It was always the magic that took place before the prince arrived that sucked me in. But then came Moon-face and suddenly I knew what a ‘prince’ was supposed to be like. When I look back now I can’t quite work out what the big attraction was but I certainly couldn’t get enough of Moon-face and all the magical characters populating the enchanted woods.
My first attempts at writing reflected my obsession with everything enchanted but instead of being stories I wrote poems. Hundreds of them. I had folders and folders of pages and pages filled with these poems, all of them about love with magical creatures disturbingly similar to Moon-face. I drove my teachers mad and probably my mother too, but I couldn’t stop. English should have been my best subject but it wasn’t. Instead I excelled at math. I actually failed English *hangs head* mainly because I couldn’t write or read what I wanted. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t feel the same passion for what my teachers told me I had to. Don’t ask me what happened to all those poems because I wouldn’t have a clue. Once I left school I stopped writing and reading. I got a job, got married, and started a family. And while I was busy and didn’t seem to miss either I obviously did because as my kids got older and I started reading again I found myself being sucked back into the worlds brought to life on those pages.
My mind started to wander and people and stories flashed to life but I still didn’t pick up pen and paper. I continued to read pretty much anything I could get my hands on. And that’s when I discovered Nora Roberts and a different kind of hero.
Rhian is the alter ego of a stay-at-home mother of four. With motherly duties rapidly dwindling Rhian is able to make use of the fertile imagination she used to keep herself sane for all those years of slavery. Having spent some years living overseas and visiting tropical climates has helped inspire some steamy stories. With the help of Mr. Muse, Rhian spends her days writing and most of her nights as well.
When not glued to the keyboard you’ll find her book in hand avoiding any and all housework as much as possible.