It’s finally feeling more like summer here in Chicago. There are still occasional cool days but for the most part, temperature is hovering around in comfortable range.

Today, I am featuring a multi-genre author, Bert Edens. Having gone to college in Arkansas and having an especial place in my heart for the state, I am excited to welcome an Arkansan on my blog.

Tell us a little about yourself—don’t be shy!

One thing I have always been told, since a young age, is I have a very vivid imagination. Sometimes it got me in trouble. Sometimes it got me out of trouble. On rare occasions it even made me enough money to buy some groceries, even if it was just ramen.

As a youth, maybe five or six years old, I remember hearing a friend read out loud some variation of “The Velvet Ribbon”. When her head rolled off at the end, and my apologies for the spoiler if you don’t know the story, I was hooked on storytelling, but especially horror. I was always one who read almost constantly from pretty much all genres. Even now, if someone asks me to beta read or proofread a book, if I have time for it, I will usually accept, regardless of what kind of book it is or what age group it’s for. I’m also the type who will go to a public library or bookstore, stare at all the books, then rattle off some random numbers in the following fashion: “Third row, fourth section, second shelf, ninth book.” Then I will go find that book and read it, no matter what it is. I’ve discovered some amazing authors that way. I remember in elementary and junior high literally, not figuratively, running out of books to read in the respective school libraries. Fortunately, public libraries are stocked more fully.

Like many people, I had some challenges growing up, ones that are in much clearer perspective now than at the time. But I learned and grew from them. And I developed some stories. People who haven’t had struggles in their lives don’t seem to have as many interesting stories to tell. Those who have seen the darkness, felt it seep deep into their core, and still come out the other side a fractured but somehow more complete person? Yeah, those are the people I want to hang out with.

As a young adult, newly married to Jann, a woman who had the patience of Job with me, I had no idea what made a healthy relationship work. So, we learned together. I made mistakes. I’m blessed she only tried to kill me once. And stories were developed.

My older son, Zak, was born prematurely by a full month, which was a near death sentence in 1993. He spent two weeks in neonatal intensive care. We almost lost him at birth and once more while he was in the NICU. He grew, he struggled, he thrived, we learned. More stories were developed.

My younger son, Josh, was born in 1996. Just the opposite of Zak, he was always ahead of the curve, in the gifted and talented programs, an amazing artist, a terrific storyteller, and most importantly possessing a heart bigger than the world. He was such a sharp counterpoint to his brother developmentally, and sometimes he suffered while we kept his brother going along. Through all that growth and struggle, more stories were formed.

In 2011, Jann died very suddenly, when my boys were 14 and 17. It was a time of chaos and adjustment for boys already knee deep in their teens, especially Josh, who was particularly close to Jann. During one fourteen month stretch, he lost five people close to him, including his mother and best friend. We bumped along the road, bumping into each other, treading water and putting one foot in front of the other the only way we knew how. Through all those devastatingly dark days, we came out the other side better than we went in. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone though. And yet, through all of that came more stories to tell.

Four years after that I found myself sitting across the table at a Mexican restaurant, talking to Carrie, an amazing woman who had been through some incredibly dark days herself, ones I have no way of fully relating to because both of my children are still living. A quick lunch date turned into four hours of relaxed, feel-like-I’ve-known-you-forever conversation. Four days later, we had a second date, three days after that, we had a third, In June of 2018, I will put a wedding band on her finger. We are planning our futures together when both of us were sure at one time no such future existed. I see many more stories to write, and I can’t wait to see what they are.

There are so many things one could do. Why write?

I’ve always been a storyteller, even as a little kid. My mom would tell you I always told stories, but especially the kind that would get my hide tanned for fibbing.