Donna Bowman Bratton

Oh, so you want to know more?

I've played with words since I was a little girl. My parents fueled my love of writing with an electric typewriter when I was about ten years old. I wore it out. Even the sticky 'N'. 

My young imagination was nurtured on our family's Quarter horse ranch in central Texas. At the time, I didn't appreciate my good fortune. I was surrounded by animals including cattle, dogs, cats, guinea hens, ducks, goats, even a pet skunk named Stinkie. Not surprisingly,  my best friends were horses.

While my human friends were riding bikes with neighborhood kids, I was riding horses and training for upcoming horse shows. While my friends were doing chores like taking out the trash, I was cleaning stalls, feeding animals, and otherwise helping around the ranch. While my friends primped and preened, I gussied up for countless show rings.

At home, I often tucked a notebook and pencil into the waist band of my jeans and loped my horse to a favorite oak tree at the far corner of our ranch. The outstretched limb was the perfect retreat for my active imagination. There I poured my deepest thoughts,  stories, and poems onto paper.

My favorite childhood fiction books involved animals (go figure) like Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, National Velvet, Flicka, and Black Beauty.  For some reason, my reading choices always left me crying in the end. Even today, I'm drawn to books with great emotion.

I always knew I wanted to be a writer. Even when a corproate career lured me away for a while. I always came back to the page. And, today, I'm happy to say that I'm at the page full time.

How lucky can a girl get?