Susan B. Roara


My Bio

     I had never been a writer.
     At least, I had never known I was a writer.
     I am currently working on BOOK NO 4, which seems unbelievable to me. I never imagined my life would turn out like this—becoming an author—but here I am, grateful for the experience.
     In 2014, years after my mother passed, I felt like I was starting to forget her. Memories were becoming faded and lost. I sat down with my computer and opened a blank document. I started writing my thoughts, mostly to preserve the emotions that I cherished about her—the stories, the life events, the love I had for her—as best as I could. As the days bled into weeks, my writings transformed from thoughts and memories of my mother into something more. I had created a story inspired from my own life.

     That year changed me. I had written two novels and my life suddenly became fulfilled in some way.

     I was never alone when I wrote; I could always feel a presence, the energy unmistakable. My whole life I trusted my instincts and had mildly acknowledged that my intuition was strong. I believed in spirits, energy, and “the signs” and felt overwhelmed by the level of peace and understanding that I received from them.

     Writing healed me in a way that was unexpected.

     I call myself an intuitive writer. Somehow, I write stories with unseen intention, but the purposes revealed are so significant to my life that it is without a doubt a gift to me.

     I am writing again, a book, that I have no idea how to write. I know the words will pass through me—they always do—but I can’t imagine what the story will be. It’s a complicated subject. One I hope to simplify respectfully and with integrity.

     I’ll never forget the morning I saw his face in the mirror. I was startled as I stared at myself, shaking my head. “God! I look just like Tommy.” Days later, after the initial shock of his death had started to wear, I realized that it was him in the mirror. His image came to me, and that was the last image I had of him, staring back at me.

     I understand fully that the messages and gifts from this book are significant.

     Tommy was my brother, a peculiar boy whose humor I’m eager to capture, whose wit and smile resembles mine in many ways. He’s here to help me. His hand will grace mine as we write, and together we will pass along the story of his life in faith that it will help and heal others.

     Thank you.

     Susan B. Roara