This is from her bio: I’ve always believed that I have ink, rather than blood, running through my veins. As a child cloud gazing, where others saw shapes, I saw words.
By the time I was 10-years-old I was writing stories and poems and selling them to neighbors and family. (I also pulled out teeth prematurely to get cash from the Tooth Fairy, but that’s a whole other aspect to my personality.) — Pulled her teeth out!
Tena koe, Kimberley. E nga iwi o te ao katoa. Haere mai, haere mai, haere mai ~ To the people of the whole world. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
Tell us why you love writing, and sell your book/yourself to us.
Why do I write? Because I can’t NOT write. To quote from a piece in my book ~
The world around me shapes itself into words without any effort or will. If I don’t put them to paper, they haunt me. They clamor about in my head all day and night. They write themselves in my dreams. They take over. So I write them. Give them their own world in which to live. Give my head peace for a moment. I write to free myself from the tyranny of my words.
If you could travel back in time and talk to yourself, what age would you be and what would you say?
At 7 years old: Don't tell your brother to throw all toys out the window. You will get caught.
At 11 years old: Twinkies are NOT your friend and your stomach will not always be flat. Eat broccoli instead.
At 16 years old: Go to Ireland. Don't miss the trip for a boy.
At 17 years old: It's not your fault. What happened wasn't your fault. You will recover and you will forgive.
At 21 years old: Stay at Sarah Lawrence College. Don't marry him. He will hurt you badly. Wait, do marry him, you will have 3 amazing kids from that marriage. It's not your fault. You will recover and you will forgive.
NOW: Look at all that you've gone through. You have nothing to fear. The worst has happened and you are still here, still strong, still smiling and writing and dreaming. Trust that the future will unfold with the promise of all that you are.
If you had the opportunity to talk to high school students, what would you talk about and why?
I would talk about archetypes and how they influence our own movement through life. We are all the hero on our own journey. We are all waiting to claim our power. And we all have the ability to shape our story.
There are moments in my life that I’ll never forget, the images are fixed in my mind and the emotions are vibrant and telling. It’s these moments that define who I am, can you share a defining moment in your life?
The moment I looked into my first daughters eyes and saw God.
What’s on your bucket list that would surprise your family and friends?
I don’t think anything would surprise my friends and family anymore. I mean, I’ve travelled the world, am marrying a man WAY younger than me, have shaved my head ... there are no surprises left. But, maybe a few would be surprised to know that I want to become a black belt in martial arts.
And, because we love them, do you have a ghost/supernatural story to share?
Every proper theater must have a ghost haunting it, and ours was no exception. It was said that years ago the understudy to a play was in love with the leading man. She loved him so much that she conspired to poison the leading lady, his girlfriend, in hopes of stealing the role, and his heart.
Her plan backfired. When the leading lady became ill, the leading man dropped out of the play to be with her. In an effort to get his attention, the understudy hanged herself in the theater, hoping to be found. It is there that she remains, haunting the theater and all who act upon her stage.
When I was going to school for theater, I had glimpses of this ghost's handiwork. Props that disappeared and reappeared in random places. And one night, on opening night, even stranger things happened.
It was my job to ring the phone that the leading man would answer. I was young, only in 8th grade compared to the juniors and seniors in the play. I was the understudy to the leading lady.
I did my part, ringing the phone when it was time, then unplugged it and walked away. The leading man answered the phone, talked and hung up. The phone kept ringing. And ringing. I turned to see if I'd somehow left it plugged in. No, there was the chord, a whole foot apart from its outlet. But the phone wouldn't stop. It was then that I saw a shadow, a wisp of nothing turning the corner. And a chill went up my spine.
Understudies should never be ignored.
Thanks Kimberly!
Where’s Kimberly?
If you want to fall in love with great writing you can order a shot glass of KK here and here. You can also follow Kimberly on twitter and keep updated on facebook.
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