Bestselling author Sharon Kreider, a former mental health therapist turned writer, weaves the emotional and psychological fabric of the human condition into her writing and prose to help shed light on many relevant issues facing society today –its conflicts, its tragedies, and windows of hope.
Born and raised in a small northern Canadian town, she left home at an early age to travel the world, and eventually settled in Colorado where she penned her first book, Sylvie: a women’s fiction novel examining a family’s love for one another, acceptance, and letting go. The siren call of the Pacific Northwest lured her to a new writing home on several acres of wild, natural land to live a quieter life with her husband.
Sharon’s second book, Wandering … a long way past the past, is a remarkable travel memoir; an exceptional account of courage, love, overcoming adversity, and forgiveness, spanning her three-year solo adventure from Canada to Asia in the late 1970s.
Her latest book, Silver Tip, is a collection of thought-provoking poems capturing the celebration of being alive, the tenderness of love, and the beauty of the natural world. She is currently working on her second women’s fiction novel.
When Sharon is not writing, you can find her hiking the hills or kayaking the lake near her home in summer, cross-country skiing in winter, and as a long-time yoga instructor, teaching a yoga class from time to time.
Some people love horror: terrifying movies, distressing books, and shocking television shows. I asked my friend, Adrienne, who likes such things. “Why?” “Oh, I get such a rush,” she said. “It’s a thrill to confront my fear from a safe distance.” She clapped her hands. “Besides, it isn’t real.” “I think I understand, but I still can’t watch, listen, or
In the days of covered wagon travel, pioneers ventured west with hopes and dreams of the fertile lands of California and Oregon. It’s estimated that 1 in every 10 emigrants died on the Oregon Trail. Diseases like dysentery and smallpox claimed some. Drownings during river crossings took out others. Falls from wagons. Accidental shootings. Weather. Wild animals. Some pioneers, after
A woman with short hair, highlighted with blond and gray streaks, touched my arm. “Sharon?” Startled, I pulled my arm away from her. Who was this stranger? I peered into her blue eyes, trying to recall when I might have met her. “Sharon, it’s me. Yvonne.” Yvonne? I don’t know any Yvonnes. Was she some crazy woman trying to trip
