About Marie

I am very proud to say that I was conceived under the sign of the bull...Taurus. The year I was born, May 10, 1964, it was mother's day. Happy Mother's day, Mother. I am the fourth child of seven. By the time I was nine, just beginning to understand that I was not actually connected to my mother at the hip, my lovely, dear parents, had finally had enough of the hot southern weather that clung to the skin like a small child clung hold of its mother's thigh. Yes...it was time for a change. So, my happy-go-lucky parents did what they felt was best. They sold  everything we owned. And I do mean everything. They purchased train tickets, headed one way, and moved us out here to good old sunny California.

I can't speak for the rest of my siblings, but life for me, as a nine-year-old girl, was hard. I had a new world, a new walk, a new way to talk. I was being reshaped without my knowing, and I was scared. I lost my best friend a year earlier, to a bowel obstruction known to me at the time as Lock bowel. I had no idea what that actually meant at the time, or what death was. So that move from one state to another, I'm sure you can imagine my state of mind. My young school years were tragic, kids typical. I was bullied, but I held my own. I'd always loved to read, but by now, I'd gained a capacious imagination. I was on my way to becoming a great storyteller. And considering I had six other siblings around, and a few cousin's that visited most weekends...what was a storyteller to do, but tell stories. That of course, went on, year after year.  

By the age of fourteen, my brothers and I formed a band. I had a voice! But for the life of me, I can't seem to remember the name we called ourselves. Is that a good thing? Anyway, I was a pretty darn good lyrics's {laughing}), and we did a whole lot of practicing. However, a year later, during another school change over, I met my boyfriend, who just ironically, happened to be a musician (keyboardist), and fortunately happens to be my husband, now. At the time, he was just what our group needed, and just the pill I know the doctor would have prescribed for me. The years with my brothers, my new love and performing was awesome. We had some great times. But hey, even great times must come to an end. 

After finishing high school,  and delivering my first child: a boy! Whoohoo! I started my first year of college. I didn't know why, at the time, but I felt empty, and that emptiness bought on guilt. I was happy-- but still something was missing, and I couldn't make sense of my thoughts most days. 

For awhile, I worked as a Medical Assistant. I read books on my oppression; spiritual, medical. Something was definitely wrong with me. And the emptiness I was feeling, which had never left me, was now back, and this time it was angry. One night, while my husband and son slept, I got out of bed and I prayed real hard. I asked God to help me. Take away the voices in my head. I pulled out some of my old stories, from the hallway closet, which I'd put there with no intentions of ever bring down. I slid down the wall and began reading through them. Oh my God-- it was the voices, looking up at me from a cluster of dull, and horribly damaged, papers. I put the papers away. In my closet this time.Days went by. Don't get me wrong, I thought about the stories everyday, and surprisingly, I didn't hear the voices. Eventually I pulled out the mess of story papers and sat them all next to the bed. Didn't do much for my cleanliness, but they were close to me. And every now and again, I would look through them. Without much luck in the ideas department, however, I became frustrated, lost again, and put them away. I continued my life as a wife and mother, and between the mothering and being a wife, I gave birth to my second child, a little girl, and two years later, to my third child; my beautiful tweedy bird.

Finally, after many years of hard work and sacrifice, I received my Associate Degree and worked several years as an X-Ray technician, while studying to be an MRI technician (which was my first choice by the way), and completing that, I worked. And I worked hard. Somewhere between mothering, being a wife and work, I began to write. Overwhelmed of course.I'd taken a course to improve my skills and eventually received my certificate from The Institute of Children's Literature. I was officially capable of writing for children.

My God...something was still missing. I'd written my first novel DejaVu: Secrets, and dabbled in some prospective others, all while trying to be a team-mom for my daughter's team to support my husband, who was now a coach, and great at it, by the way. I decided that submission was my problem. I needed to submit my story, and let the world in on my greatness. Wrong. I sent off my the first few chapters, online to several publishing companies, with no intentions or clue that I would be rejected. Rejection number one came. Then rejection number two, and they just kept flowing in.  Of course I was hurt. Finally (exhausted), but not ready nor willing to give up; well, thanks to my great husband. I tossed out more query letters, and then there was a bit.  I was a published author! I have a long way to walk on my journey. From writing I have learned a lot, and my voice speaks loud and clear on the pages of paper. I am blessed to have been given this talent by God, and I would be letting him down if I didn't use it. I thank God everyday for my wonderfully supportive and handsome husband, and for my three beautiful, now grown intelligent children, and the few great friends in my life. Thanks guys. And thanks for putting up with me. I will always give my all to my writing, and I will do my best to give you, my readers--a great adventure, filled with all the ingredients that come along with it. And hopefully by the end of a book--you find you. 

© Marie Dai'Re

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