We recently connected with Monika Balmer and have shared our conversation below.

Monika, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about the things you feel your parents did right and how those things have impacted your career and life.

One of the greatest things my parents did right was giving me the kind of childhood that required me to become strong, adaptable, and independent early on. They weren’t traditional or overly structured, but they gave me freedom, and that freedom allowed me to learn who I was, what I wanted, and how to navigate the world with confidence. I didn’t realize it at the time, but those experiences have had a positive, lasting impact on my life and career.

My parents encouraged independence.
They weren’t hovering or controlling, and because of that, I learned to trust myself — to think for myself, make decisions, and take responsibility for my own path. It helped me become someone who steps in, leads, and problem-solves naturally. That independence is a huge part of why I thrive in leadership roles today.

Life wasn’t always smooth, but they handled things the best way they knew how. Watching them navigate their own challenges showed me what determination looks like. It helped me develop a “keep going” mentality — something that has carried me through every major chapter of my life, from raising my daughter to leading teams to building my own business

I remember being young and realizing that if I wanted something — whether it was support, stability, or a solution — I could create it. Instead of scaring me, that realization empowered me. It made me mature early, yes, but it also made me capable, grounded, and driven. That moment became the root of how I operate today: calm under pressure, self-motivated, and always willing to figure things out.

Looking back, the greatest gift my parents gave me was the freedom to grow into someone strong.
They didn’t script my life for me — they let me write it myself. And that positive foundation shapes how I lead, how I parent, and how I show up in every role I take on.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I’m Monika Balmer, and my journey as an author started long before I ever put my name on a book cover. For most of my life, writing was the quiet place I went to when my world felt too loud. I never planned to become an author, and I certainly didn’t imagine building a creative career out of the pieces of my own experiences — but life has a way of nudging us into the places where we belong.

My first novel, He Wasn’t Who He Said He Was, came from one of those nudges. It grew out of a chapter of my life that changed me, challenged me, and ultimately pushed me toward my own voice. Turning that experience into fiction was transformative. I didn’t write it to be brave; I wrote it because the story wouldn’t leave me alone until I put it on paper. When people connected with it — truly connected — I realized that storytelling wasn’t just something I enjoyed. It was something I was meant to do.

Since then, writing has become a space where all the different parts of me can coexist: the deeply emotional, the humorous, the reflective, the imaginative. That blend is what inspired my children’s book, Luna’s Very Special Eyes. While Luna isn’t my horse, her story resonated with me from the moment I learned about her — a gentle, blind horse guided through the world by her loyal donkey friend, Petey. Their relationship is a reminder that even when life takes away one sense, it can strengthen another: trust. Writing Luna’s story allowed me to create a book that comforts children, celebrates differences, and reminds families that friendship and kindness can overcome almost anything.

One of the greatest joys in this journey has been watching my daughter publish her very first book, Ash and Fern. Seeing her excitement, her confidence, and her imagination take root on the page has been one of the proudest moments of my life. It feels incredibly special that we are writing side by side now — two very different voices, but both driven by the desire to create something meaningful.

Writing isn’t my only creative outlet, though. I also run a small micro-bakery where I bake artisan breads, pies, and other treats to order. There’s something grounding about working with your hands, about turning simple ingredients into something warm and comforting. The feeling is similar to writing. A blank page, like a bowl of dough, has endless potential — and with patience, intention, and a little heart, it becomes something beautiful that you can share with others.

Whether I’m writing stories or baking fresh sourdough, my work is always rooted in connection. I write books for people who have lived through complicated chapters and need to see themselves reflected honestly. I write children’s stories to bring comfort, curiosity, and compassion to little readers. And I bake for my community because good food has a way of softening even the hardest days.

What sets my brand apart — both as an author and as a baker — is that everything I create comes from lived experience and genuine passion. I don’t write from a distance. I write from places I’ve actually been. I don’t bake just to sell something. I bake because sharing something warm and homemade is its own form of love.

Today, I’m proud of the life I’ve built: the books that carry pieces of my heart, the daughter who is beginning her own creative legacy, and the little micro-bakery that fills my home with the smell of rising dough and fresh pies. More than anything, I want readers and customers to know that everything I make — whether it’s a story or a loaf of bread — is created with intention, honesty, and heart.

That is the center of my brand, The Story Barn, my work, and who I am.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

For me, the most rewarding aspect of being a creative is the way it allows me to transform pieces of my life into something that connects with others. Whether I’m writing a book or baking a loaf of bread, I’m taking something deeply personal — a memory, a feeling, a lesson, a moment — and turning it into something people can hold, taste, read, and experience.

There is nothing more meaningful than watching someone light up because a story I wrote made them feel understood, or because a warm loaf of bread brought comfort to their day. Creativity lets me speak to people in ways I couldn’t with just conversation. It lets me offer hope, laughter, healing, and softness in a world that doesn’t always pause long enough to offer those things on its own.

As an author, the most rewarding feeling is hearing from a reader who saw part of themselves in my pages. As a micro-baker, it’s watching someone take that first bite and smile. Both remind me that what I create matters — not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest and made with heart.

Being a creative has given me a place to use every chapter of my life — even the hard ones — to build something beautiful. And knowing that my work can comfort, inspire, or support someone else is the greatest reward of all.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

One of the clearest examples of my resilience comes from the period of my life that ultimately became the foundation for my novel, He Wasn’t Who He Said He Was. At the time, I was navigating a relationship that slowly revealed itself to be built on deception. It was a chapter filled with confusion, emotional exhaustion, and a sense of losing pieces of myself without realizing it.

The pivotal moment came when I finally allowed myself to acknowledge the truth — that the person I thought I knew wasn’t real, and that the life I had pictured with him wasn’t ever going to exist. It wasn’t a dramatic movie scene, just a quiet moment of clarity. I remember sitting alone one evening, my house completely silent except for the sound of my own breath, and realizing that staying would cost me more than leaving ever could.

Leaving required courage I wasn’t even sure I had. I was suddenly a single mother rebuilding my life from the ground up — financially, emotionally, and practically. I had responsibilities, fears, and a future that felt incredibly uncertain. But every day, I kept moving forward. I went to work, I parented, I paid bills, I held myself together, and I refused to let that experience define me.

What surprised me was what came next.

Out of that painful chapter, I picked up my pen and began writing the story that became He Wasn’t Who He Said He Was. Turning my experience into fiction gave me back my power. It allowed me to reshape something painful into something meaningful. Instead of breaking me, that season of my life became the catalyst for my creative voice — and eventually my entire writing career.

And then came another unexpected full-circle moment: watching my daughter publish her first book, Ash and Fern. Seeing her confidence and creativity blossom reminded me why getting back up matters. Not only did I rebuild my own life, but my resilience created a home where imagination, strength, and independence could thrive for the next generation.

That chapter taught me that resilience isn’t loud or glamorous. It’s quiet. It’s steady. It’s choosing yourself when it feels terrifying. It’s taking something that could’ve destroyed you and turning it into art that helps others feel less alone.

My entire journey as an author and creative is built on that one transformative truth:
I didn’t just survive the hard chapter — I wrote my way into a better one.

Contact Info:

• Other: [email protected]