About Deborah Krider
For most of my life, writing has been a hobby. Something I did when creative bursts hit, and sometimes for company and consolation. It was a place to go when outside forces were too rough. A place to hide or escape to where there were no boundaries and anything could happen!
I wrote even before I knew words. As a four year old, I would scribble lines on a piece of paper, simply enjoying filling it up. Then I would take it to my mother who "read" it to me. She relayed enrapturing tales filled with exciting adventures! Wow, I wrote that, I thought. Hey, I was only four!
As I grew, books became my best friends. When I turned 12, an aunt and uncle bought me a collection of Walter Farley's Black Stallion books for my birthday. I read them over and over. What more could a city girl want than stories filled with the adventures of a wild black stallion and a young boy brave enough to ride him? I loved the feeling I had reading. It was complete contentment.
Creative writing was my favorite class. In seventh grade English we were given an assignment to write a short story related to Halloween. I wrote about a monster laying in wait in the woods where it attacked, killed and ate a woman. Freaky, I know, but I got away with it because it fit the theme. Instead of ending it with and then she woke up, as many stories did, I wrote that the creature started to shift and change, morphing into a dog, and ended it with him running through the woods back to his master. We had to read our stories out loud to the class and when I finished I received a round of excited applause. I've written ever since.
If I could've done things differently, I would've taken my writing much more seriously than I did. Instead of pursuing it in college, my drive to get a job and move out on my own after high school graduation took precedence, and as a result, my writing took a back seat.
But here I go, giving it a serious shot. And as I always say when starting a new story, "we'll see what happens."
--Deborah Krider, 2008