I looked at a lot of other YA authors' websites while I was putting this one together and I swear, I think I've had the most boring life of anyone. Honestly, if you can find another YA author who's never lived outside a seven-mile radius of their place of birth, please let me know. It'll make me feel a lot better.

I was born York, Pennsylvania in 1963. I missed being born on Jane Austen's birthday by one day. One day! I feel that has defined my life in many ways.

York is the birthplace of the peppermint patty. Get the sensation. It's a region with a strong Pennsylvania Dutch heritage. I grew up on fasnachts, chicken potpie, and shoofly pie. I never met a carbohydrate I didn't love. I still occasionally say smutzy and reutch, but I try hard not to say the milk is all when what I mean is we're out of milk.

I grew up in Weiglestown, a little town a few miles north of York, with three sisters and a brother so most of the time, someone hated someone else. (Though we pretty much have that all worked out now. I think.) My strongest childhood memories involve massive quantities of Play-doh, me throwing Monopoly boards across the room in a fit of pique--paper money and little plastic houses raining down, making dresses for clovers out of petunias and watching I Dream of Jeannie reruns.

I had my first kiss at age five, at the back of the kindergarten milk line, from Steve Buchanan. Steve, if you're out there, I treasure that memory. You were a tough act to follow.

I was a creative liar as a child. Actually, I was just very bored, and…umm…embroidering the truth was my way of spicing up my very dull life. I remember standing up in second grade and announcing that I had become an aunt. (My oldest sister was then thirteen and my teacher knew it.) I told my fourth grade teacher I had read all of the Shakespeare plays and because I had read a book of watered-down Shakespeare stories, I was able to answer enough of her questions when she quizzed me to convince her I had read them all. (Which, I'm sorry to say, encouraged me to fudge many a test in years to come.) I told everyone a plaid skirt I had in fifth grade was my family tartan. I wore rubber bands over my teeth and told people they were braces. I found a Med-Alert bracelet that claimed I had diabetes and wore it for months, drawing lots of sympathy.

I attended Dover High School in Dover, PA, a little town a few more miles north of York. Dover sent a small regiment to the Revolutionary War but they got lost and by the time they finally got there, we were an independent country. That's all you need to know about Dover. (Addendum: Given the recent news, maybe that isn't all you need to know about Dover. Or maybe you already think you know enough. Yes, this is that Dover. Panda Trial Dover. I don't want to get all political here, but just let me say that things have changed. Dover was a lot more cosmopolitan back then--which is funny considering other York County schools referred to us as "farmers." I didn't attend school with anyone who had trouble reconciling their religious beliefs with the theory of evolution. Or maybe we just didn't think about it that hard. Maybe that was worse. Who knows. All I know is there ought to be a way to tie this into that whole Revolutionary War story only I can't think of one right now.)

I didn't like high school. I thought it was boring and trivial. (Except for you, Mr. Rex Miller. You were unforgettable.) So when I graduated in 1981, I decided I was done with school.

I quickly got one of those old-fashioned state government jobs where you don't do anything. I'm told they don't exist anymore, but that's what we said back then, too. My various bosses all said the same thing ("Look busy!") so I wrote. Reams and reams of awful stuff. I figure it was a great time to get all the crap out of my system. I quit after nearly nine years and started making one-of-a-kind art dolls, which I still do, though my output is incredibly slow these days. Being a self-employed doll artist was much harder than showing up for work and looking busy. Wish someone would have told me.

In 1998, I decided to stop fooling around writing self-indulgent fluff and began the long process towards publication. I sold my first book in May of 2002. (More info on that on the Writing page.)

In 1985 (August 3rd, yes, Andy, I do remember) I married my mail-order husband, Andy Wyatt. (We met through the mail. It's a long story...) I loved my maiden name, but I was willing to switch over to such a literary last name even though my grandmother said "Change the name and not the letter, change for worse and not for better." We have two sons, Ned and Will. We still live in York because...well...we just do. (Ha! I kid York, really.)

If you want, need, are vaguely interested in more, you can check out my Writing page or my Favorite Things page. Or visit my livejournal.