I Write What I Am

We came to the mountains of Georgia after losing everything to a hurricane. One of the things you don’t lose in a disaster is who you are. I spent my whole life dealing with just who I was in the scheme of things. From early on, I knew I was different. I knew I had a huge imagination. I didn’t realize that other people couldn’t see what I could in mirrors. My grandmother caught me trying to teach a friend, much to the friend’s frustration, what I saw. Later, my grandmother told me to just tell her–that others might not see what I saw. But, it was a little late. The friend had told others and I was teased unmercifully in school, called a freak at best.

After one particularly frustrating day, I got mad and grabbed a boy’s arm. He screamed, saying I’d pinched him. I hadn’t. I’d just touch his arm. I tried to show the teacher and she jumped back and laughed, saying I’d just picked up some static electricity. I got off easy. From then on, I tried not to touch people. As I grew older, I learned to control it, somewhat. One consequence of that was that I would throw off heat–to the point that I got teased in college and people would either move closer, joking that they needed to get near “the furnace” or move away to get away from the heat. But I didn’t shock people much. To this day, I blow light bulbs and surge electronics if I’m not careful.

Living in my woods is a solace. Some days, when things get frustrating, I walk to my trees and place my hand against a trunk and feel calm flow into me. I’m not sure if I’m dissipating my excess energy to them or them are putting their calm into me. Most times it works. When it doesn’t and I blow more bulbs, I keep a rod around for grounding. There’s a reason I don’t put my laptops on my lap.

Hence, Ruthorford. I created a place where they were a bit different. Of course it’s fiction, but it is also a release. My residents know what it’s like to be bullied. My descendants know what it’s like to be different and try to live among others. My characters are allowed to enjoy their differences.

I decided to write this for all those out there like me. At my book signings and after, I’ve had people telling me they loved that I wrote about the possibilities of humans and what we can look forward to. I’ve had others ask me questions, telling me stories about themselves. It is for those I write this.

Everyone is different. Everyone is unique. Everyone has abilities that others don’t. Come to Ruthorford and find out more about people and their differences. Just remember–it’s fiction….maybe.

Welcome to Ruthorford. Enjoy any of my novels or my newest, Descendant Rising:

As the heat turns up in Ruthorford, Ozzy arrives, accompanying a Marine brother home for the last time. The lone survivor of a horrific helicopter crash, Ozzy hasn’t had time to begin to heal, neither mentally nor physically. Yet, coming to this small town will give him far more than he’s lost–ready or not.

Descendant Rising by Shanon Grey (Available digital and print.)

About Shanon Grey

I am a Fiction::Weaver, weaving stories of suspense, action, and mystery where science and magic merge.
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