Lili B. Adams holds a Master's degree in comparative literature, German philology and English. She planned to write a dissertation thesis on "Slayer Grrrls" but after 10 years and two bouts of depression finally decided it wasn't worth it. Now, she works as an editor at German romance magazine LoveLetter. She lives with her husband and an ever increasing number of books in Germany, on the shores of the Baltic Sea.

I've wanted to become a writer since I was a child.

I've always thought that is a great way to start an author's bio. Only in my case, it isn't true. I wanted to become a paleontologist as a child (even if I didn't know the word then), as I was utterly fascinated by dinosaurs. When that phase passed I still wanted to crawl through mud and sand, but my interest turned to the remains of civilization not extinct animals, and I wanted to become an archeologist. And that was way before I even heard about Indiana Jones.
Luckily, by the time I had to choose my classes at university I had seen reason. On second thought, considering that I decided on comp lit the "reason"-part might be open to discussion...

I made my first attempts at writing when I was 15. I had read lots of Kathleen E. Woodiwiss at the time (which should tell you something about my age), and my heroine was a 17-year-old Englishwoman who wanted to sail the seas. So, she does the logical thing and sneaks, disguised as a boy, of course, onto the ship of our hero.
I don't really remember what happened next. I probably never even wrote that much more. I only recall one more scene in which the hero is injured in a duel (in his cabin, no less), and the heroine tends to his wounds.

This seems the right time to confess I have this thing for wounded heroes. I tried to fight it, but it's useless. I can't help it. Thankfully, I'm not alone. If you don't understand the appeal, read this.

Nothing remains of this early writing, as I burned it ritually a few years later. And that's a good thing, because if anyone had ever gotten his hands on it and read it I would have had to kill him. And then, I would have been found out (I'm a lousy liar) and gone to prison and probably never have written another word again.
I still have some cringeworthy efforts in a yellow manila folder hidden somewhere deep in a big blue box in my bedroom. But as you don't know where I live we'll all be safe.

I took up writing again in my mid-twenties. The stories from that time (erotic, first person) aren't half bad. Nothing I would necessarily want to publish, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Still, I'm happy to see that I've certainly come a long way since then.

The past years, I've written mostly gaming fiction (yes, I do roleplay on occasion, how's that for a cliché), all strictly for fun and mostly for me and the other players.

And then, Freya's Bower happened. I was doing research for an article on ebook publishers for LoveLetter when I found a prompt writing competition on their site. The good part: you didn't need a finished manuscript. Just send in no more than 500 words of your best writing in a erotic romance subcategory of your choosing. And they didn't want a whole novel.
After my unpleasant experiences with my dissertation, I knew I didn't have it in me to write a long story, let alone a whole novel. At least, not at the moment. But two stories with a combined word count of 6-8k seemed pretty doable. I had some chick lit stuff I could use and, on a whim, decided to enter.
I heard back within a few hours. They wanted to read some of my erotic writing. So, the next day, I wrote a 500 word sex scene (not that easy, I tell you) and emailed it. A few hours later, I was welcomed into the Freya's Bower family. I couldn't believe it. Still can't really.

In May 2006, my first stories have been published as a so-called Bites at Freya's Bower. It's called (see writing to learn more).