This is a continuation of my first blog, Scribbly Katia.
Bio (the classic way) -
Katia Novet Saint-Lot is the author of Amadi’s Snowman, illustrated by Dimitrea Tokunbo (Tilbury House, Publishers). She thrives on diversity, and feels very privileged to have a family hailing from France, Spain, Haiti, and the US, two beautiful daughters, an overworked husband who regularly forgets to call home, and an expatriate life that has taken her to seven countries, and counting. A translator by trade, she tries to carve more and more time for her writing, and is currently working on several picture books, each set in a different country, and one YA novel set in India. Finding an agent, at this stage, would make her very, very happy.
Now, something more “all over the place” (kind of like me.)
Procrastination could be my middle name ; the real one sounds even uglier that that ; unapologetic dreamer – “always in a cloud” figured in practically all my school reports throughout the years, and it still holds true ; inexhaustible traveler forever researching the next destination ; hopelessly uprooted, confused about my mixed-up identity, and wouldn’t have it any other way ; as a teen, I spent hours singing La Traviata at the top of my lungs in my strawberry hot pink bedroom ; allergic to exercise when it’s not dancing on good music (Latin, Zumba) or lots of drums that lift me off the floor (especially Sabar from Senegal) ; cannot watch a sad movie without shedding buckets of tears (my youngest daughter is following in my steps, so there’s a lot of crying going on in that house) ; I will iron, but please, don’t ask me to cook ; love roller-coasters – the faster the better, and my neck and cervical vertebrae do not thank me for it ; never owned a TV in my life – even now, the family TV is my husband’s, and I’m proud to say it has not been connected to any channel or satellite dish in seven years ; how else would we find time to read, which is the thing I’ve done the most assiduously ever since I could string letters together to form words ; I still remember the very first book I owned ; read The Three Musketeers at least two dozen times ; I also cry buckets when reading sad books. And that’s much more than anyone ever wanted to know, for sure.
