Lori Tiron-Pandit is a writer, editor, and translator of Romanian extraction. She lives in a small town near Boston, with her two children and her husband.

Lori Tiron-Pandit writes about women’s lives, modern and ancestral, about women’s spirituality, their mythologies, often shrouded in darkness, and their unique imprint on the world. She self-published her first novel, Spell of Blindness, in 2012 and is currently working on her second book.

I have a BA in Journalism from Bucharest University. My writing and editing experience includes print magazine editing, website creation and content development, as well as fiction, non-fiction, and poetry translation.

I worked as editor and later editor in chief for the IT-industry magazine Computerworld Romania, both the print issue and the online content. I also edited books and other short publications for Partners for Change, a non-profit involved in supporting and empowering Romanian women active in politics and business.

I translated two non-fiction books from English into Romanian (O istorie a Indiei (A History of India), by Hermann Kulke and Dietmar Rothermund, Artemis publishing house, Bucharest 2003 and Capcane pentru turisti (Tourist Trap), by Patrick Blackden, Semne publishing house, Bucharest 2004) and I also translated Neil Simon’s Biloxi Blues for a Romanian stage production that premiered at the Bucharest Comedy Theatre in November 2006, under the direction of Iarina Demian.

I have completed certificate-programs in Copyediting and Technical Communication from the University of California, San Diego Extension.

Besides writing my first novel, Spell of Blindness, since 2009 I have also been working as a freelance copyeditor and web designer. I am comfortable with Associated Press and Chicago style, and I specialize in online content and e-books. I have also been working on my second book, Dragaica, The Devil Woman, and Them, for which I am currently seeking representation.

In 2017 I started focusing more on short speculative fiction, mostly of the dark, macabre, and occult fashion.

As a woman, and mother of two, I have to add that caring for my family takes a lot of my energy, of my emotional and mental space, and represents a big part of my working day. It’s a labor of love, which I’m grateful to have, and I know it does not go unappreciated, although I do wish it had more of a money value attached to it and its economic impact were recognized appropriately by society at large.

I don’t want to end this on a sour note though. It’s not too hard to make life good when there’s always been an awe-striking sight to gaze out at, good art to keep my faith in the beauty of the human mind, an empathetic smile to pull me up when I fell into my darkness, and a good story to reshape my known world into a place of wonder. And let’s not forget pretty clothes, which have helped make my days better ever since that blue flowered and ruffled long skirt number that, when I was about six, my grandmother refashioned at my request from my mother’s old dress, on my great-grandmother’s sewing machine, and which I wore for a long time, day after day, on the dirt roads and grassy yards of the village, and all the way up in its fruitful trees.