Mary Shelley

Hello! My name is Mary Shelley. I was born in London, England, on August 30th, 1797, to two very famous writers, Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin. Sadly, my mother passed away just after I was born, but my father raised me in a house that was more like a library. We didn't have much money, but we had endless stories. I didn't go to a regular school, but I read every book I could get my hands on and spent my days dreaming up my own tales.

When I was sixteen, in 1814, I met a brilliant young poet named Percy Bysshe Shelley, and we fell in love. Two years later, in the summer of 1816, we traveled to a beautiful place called Lake Geneva in Switzerland with our friend, the famous poet Lord Byron. That summer was unusually cold and stormy because a volcano had erupted far away, filling the sky with ash! We spent many days stuck inside Lord Byron's villa, reading ghost stories to each other. One night, Lord Byron had an idea. 'Let's each write our own ghost story!' he challenged.

Everyone else started writing right away, but I couldn't think of a good idea. Then, one night, I had a terrifying waking dream. I saw a pale scientist kneeling beside a creature he had made. I watched as the creature, with its watery eyes, began to move and breathe. The scientist was horrified by what he had done! I woke up with my heart pounding. I had found my story. I was only eighteen years old when I began to write about Victor Frankenstein and his creation. The book, called Frankenstein, was published on January 1st, 1818, but at first, I didn't even put my name on it.

My life had its share of sadness. I lost my beloved husband Percy in a boating accident in 1822, which was very difficult. To support myself and our son, Percy Florence, I became a professional writer. I wrote more novels, travel stories, and articles. It was my way of navigating the world and sharing my ideas. While I was proud of all my work, it was my first book, Frankenstein, that people remembered most.

I lived to be 53 years old, passing away in 1851. For over 200 years, my story of a lonely creation and a brilliant but reckless scientist has fascinated people all over the world. I am remembered for creating one of the first-ever science fiction stories and for showing that a spooky tale can also ask big questions about what it means to be human and the importance of being kind to others, no matter how different they seem.