Mary Beth Lang

I grew up in the small town of Lemont, Illinois. Much of my childhood was spent exploring woods and fields, sneaking onto the grounds of the convent behind our house, or playing games that required imagination with my sisters or neighbor kids. Most of my time, though, was spent reading.

Whenever she couldn’t find me, my mother would roll her eyes and say, “Mary Beth is hiding somewhere with a book again.” Sure enough, I might be deep in the woods with the Hardy Boys, or high up in our willow tree with Harriet the Spy or Anne of Green Gables. Books gave me an itch to travel and see the world. Eventually, I would live in Norway and visit many parts of Europe.

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Growing up, I kept a journal, beginning my writing habit at the age of ten. No matter what I’ve been doing in my life since, some form of writing has been involved. In addition to the scripts or reports I wrote for work, I submitted personal essays to the Chicago Tribune, wrote film scripts for my own amusement, and finally produced short stories and novels for young adults and middle grade readers.

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My life has given me more material than I could ever put down on paper. I am fortunate to have an amazing and talented adult daughter whom I get to see thriving. I also was given twenty-three years with an incredible son. His death inspired me to take my writing much more seriously, which brings me back to why I am here now.

The experiences I had as a reader growing up were magical. Giving that kind of magic to kids growing up today is the best way I can imagine spending my life.