Stick her in the
middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage
wearing husband, and Kirsten Blacketer can cook and clean with the best of them. But
when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she
tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.
Her characters
creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the
castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there
with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming.
They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to
do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the
women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with
passion and grace.
Never bored by the
tales still left to tell, she battles the ever sarcastic muse in her quest for
romance.
