I'm a mid-forties white American woman working and living in Germany. Like many, I mostly write what I know, and most of what I know is based on my experiences, which include: upper-middle-class upbringing; Gen X dot-com boom-and-bust veteran; professional marketer, of late in the sports industry. Above all, I am a wife, daughter, sister, friend and aunt.

If I were defined in terms of what I am not, it would be: mother, someone who chats easily in the hair stylist's chair, someone who always follows through on what I say I am going to do. It would be accurate to say most of the time, I go along with the flow, except for the times when I don't.

I have always loved writing, and I have always wanted to be a writer but I have never had the confidence or security to believe I could be one. Now, in middle age, I am conscious that my time to try may be running out. I look at writers my age who struggled for years, and perhaps still struggle despite being some of my idols, and can't help but feel like an imposter.