The Facts...

Amber Grosjean (author)
Dec 6
5 min read

Hello, I'm Amber Grosjean. I am a wife, mother, grandmother (they call me Nana), writer, friend, and the list goes on...

I was a writer long before I was any of those things, but I was a wife and mother before I became a published author. I had faith that I was created for something. For the first 10 years of my life, I had no idea what it was, and I tried to give up. I was among the many who attempted suicide, and I'm one of the few who failed. It's the only thing in my life that I'm happy I failed at, because only one year after this attempt, I discovered exactly what I was created for. And it hit me like nothing else in my life ever did. I had a purpose! Even with the long list of rejections from publishers, I was determined to prove I was worthy of being a published author. When that letter finally came in the mail, I danced while crying. 20 years after I began writing, my dream was coming true! I was among the many who could claim to be an author, a real bonified published author. I'm still doing that little dance, 18 years later! It doesn't feel like it's been that long, though.

Every book I release has been a new celebration to add to the first. My goal is 100+ books, and I hope I reach that goal and surpass it. That would be one of the coolest things ever! It's in me. I just have to get each of those stories out. And they are all so different. So, while I'm working on getting those books written, here are a few facts about the author and woman behind them...

I'm left-handed. Before I came along, everyone in my family (on my mother's and father's side) was right-handed. That was only the first thing that made me different. I was also a dreamer. My head was in the clouds most of the time. I could envision so many things. I was passionate about treating people kindly in a world where everyone was cruel. I couldn't believe I came from my family. I often thought I was switched at birth, but I do resemble my parents, so that's only a wish in the dark.
When I was 18, I joined the National Guard, hoping it would toughen me up so I could finally stand up to my family. While it gave me the experience and some respect from the men in my family, I wasn't able to "handle" the tearing down to become a tougher person. I didn't make it past basic training. Actually, I didn't quite make it to basic training. I went. When it came down to doing a push-up, one requirement they don't tell you before attending basic training, I couldn't do it. I was sent to "fitness training" to work on my upper body strength before I moved on to the normal training. Every week, we would return to see if we could get that single push-up in. I had perfect formation, but couldn't push my body up, which meant I would stay in fitness training. While there, I met a lot of people and made friends. I learned I could actually sing. I saw lice for the first time. That was a little freaky since I was accused of having the bugs--the nurse mistakenly diagnosed dandruff for them and was put into a group, which brought back painful memories from being teased as a child. This set me into a "I don't want to be here, but I don't want to go home" mode and worked on getting discharged. I was sent home. Before going home, I was on my final workout with the group, and I was singled out to "lead" the group into the room for our workout. I couldn't get anyone to listen to me, so I was told to come to the front while everyone watched. I was put into push-up formation and had to hold the position until they told me to stand up. All the while, the sergeant kept asking if I wanted to give up. I refused. I just told him what he wanted to hear. They told everyone to clear the room, and the sergeant told me to rest before starting over. When it was over, he whispered that he was sorry to see me leaving because I was a good soldier. It made me feel good. It was too late, though, because I would be on my way home a couple of days later.

I'm not a natural blonde, even though I was when I was a toddler. After being married for a few years, I started dying my hair because I was getting grey hair. I did not want to look older than I was. After seeing how I looked as a blonde, I thought I looked so much better, so I kept it. Of course, I did try other colors over the years. I did like the pink and the blue, but those were temporary. I'm sticking with the blonde. It feels right. My natural color is brown, and I always hated it.
I have a tattoo on my left ankle. It's a rose with a marijuana leaf. Yes, I have smoked the stuff. I was 19 years old. It was one of the things I wanted to do while I was in the military. At the time, I was dating a guy in the National Guard. He's the last boyfriend before my husband. A friend put the tattoo on my ankle with a sewing needle. I wanted something feminine but also something that said a little something about my life. He came up with the overall design of the tattoo. It hurt, but I was drunk enough to get through it. At that time, I knew someday I would have kids. I told myself it would be something I could talk about when they got older. I knew I couldn't tell them they couldn't do something like this since I did. But I also told myself I would convince them to be older and be safe about it if they chose to do it. I hate double standards. I grew up with them. As it turned out, that was one thing I could bond with my kids over — those stories from my youth. When I look at that tattoo, I'm reminded that I can be whoever I want to be, and I came from a long past with ups and downs.
The last fact of this blog is... My life is an organized chaos. And I love it! It has taken me a long time to get where I am. It started poorly--being bullied by my classmates and parts of my family. Writing helped me through it. Meeting Billy--my husband--saved my life. He taught me that I was beautiful and gave me strength. He was the first to support my writing and has been by my side every step of the way. Today, I work at a local hotel where things are finally working out for us. We still have problems, but I'm able to face them. Next year, I'll be 50 years old, so I guess I've gotten wiser over the years. That could be the reason why I'm finally able to handle things. Or it could be all the things I've experienced over the years. Maybe the combination of the two.

Okay, so now I'd like to learn a little about you. Please comment below and share something about yourself. If you'd like to learn more about me and my books, please sign up for my mailer. Thank you!