My (slightly abridged) story
Hi, I’m Ranae LaFerney and I’m a writer based in the Pacific Northwest. For many years, I’ve lived amid the natural beauty of the Olympic Peninsula where, in addition to writing, I raise chickens and vegetables, walk four miles every morning, and spend as much time as possible “birding by ear.” This region is famous for its rain forests, scenic mountains, and Olympic National Park (established as Olympus National Monument in 1909 by President Theodore Roosevelt, later changed to Olympic National Park in 1929). There is also a bevy of interesting wildlife, including glorious bird migrations each year. Read more about the local flora and fauna on my blog, The North Olympic Perspective at tnop.org.
Once upon a time...
I grew up in Vancouver—no, not that one—the one a little farther south, in southwest Washington along the Columbia River.
The town’s claims to fame include Fort Vancouver, an important depot of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and the Old Apple Tree, which was originally planted in 1826 and died in 2020 at the (ripe) old age of 194.
Notably, Vancouver served as the epicenter for journalists and television crews after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption that took place on May 18, 1980, just 40 miles to the north. With its perfect snow-cone top of pristine white, the mountain had been a geographic data point on my daily horizon since birth. After the eruption, things were much different. I remember going about life in darkness, streetlights beaming overhead 24/7 during several days of heavy ash fall. Plumes of steam would puff from the mountaintop for several years before settling down for good.
People poured handfuls of grit into boxes, and mailed it to distant friends and strangers who wanted to own a piece of history (today, you can buy vials of it on Etsy or EBay for about $8.00). Those more creatively inclined crafted gemstones out of the ash, what became known as Helenite.
And then...
I moved to Portland, Oregon, just a hop across the Interstate Bridge from Vancouver, where I got my first full-time job as a file clerk and enrolled in night courses at Marylhurst University. It would take me five years to get my degree in Communications, but I paid every dollar of tuition myself and consider it one of the best investments I ever made. It certainly got me out of the file room.
The B.P. John Administration Building was designed by local architect Josef Jacobberger and completed in 1929. By the time I went there, the floors creaked and the place smelled like the well-worn slice of history it had become. I never got tired of wandering the halls and hearing violins and cellos from the upstairs auditorium where the MFA students practiced. There was always an ethereal quality to the place, infinitely pleasant and reassuring. When I think back to the staff and professors—each of whom I called by first name—along with my fellow students, I feel a debt of gratitude to them for providing me such a supportive environment and an exceptional liberal arts education.
Over the years I’ve had the good fortune of taking jobs in diverse industries—finance, technology, publishing, shipping, engineering—as a communications specialist or a writer. I’ve worked alongside CPAs, computer programmers, journalists, scientists, engineers, and steamship agents. For a short time, I wrote a weekly humor column for a metropolitan newspaper. That experience taught me an important truth about people: they enjoy reading the news; they enjoy a good laugh even more.
Every one of those jobs added to the richness of my ongoing education; what I understand and continue to learn about the meaning of work and life in general. All of these experiences have helped to make me a better writer. A more well-rounded person. A more capable consultant to support you.