Gloria Lee – Bilingual Children’s Author & Storyteller
✨ Stories that spark curiosity, kindness, and laughter.

Gloria Lee is a bilingual storyteller based in Christchurch, New Zealand.
She reimagines Greek myths with warmth, humour, and imagination —
weaving tales that connect generations and hearts.

Welcome to Gloria Lee’s World.

Gloria Lee is a bilingual author and storyteller based in Christchurch, New Zealand.
She retells Greek myths with warmth, humor, and imagination — weaving tales that bridge art, wisdom, and heart across generations.

  • Author Platform Challenge — Day 2: Where Hope Begins

    I want children to love this.

    Simply. Clearly.

    I imagine their curious hearts beating first,
    before they fully understand the meaning—
    their fingers unable to let go of the page,
    turning it again and again.

    As they look at the illustrations,
    their pupils widen,
    and imagination bursts quietly inside their minds.
    I believe in that silent joy.

    And beside them,
    parents and grandparents smiling,
    sharing the same page, the same moment.
    What began as a story for a child
    slowly becomes a story for themselves.

    I write stories
    for the moment when reading is no longer solitary,
    but becomes a shared experience.

    I want books to become more than objects—
    to become memories,
    conversations at the end of the day,
    bridges between generations and communities.

    That is why I write.

    Or, to be honest,
    that is why I cannot not write.

    If I do not imagine
    a child’s heart beginning to race,
    I cannot write a single sentence.

    This is my hope.
    And this page—
    is where that hope takes its first breath.

    🌿 Day 2 — 희망이 시작되는 자리

    나는 아이들이 좋아하길 바란다.
    아주 단순하고도 분명하게.

    이야기를 읽으며
    호기심 어린 심장이 먼저 뛰고,
    의미를 다 이해하기도 전에
    손가락이 페이지를 놓지 못하는 그 순간을.

    삽화를 바라보다
    동공이 커지고,
    머릿속에서 상상이 폭죽처럼 터지는 아이들.
    그 소리 없는 환호를 나는 믿는다.

    그리고 그 옆에서
    부모와 조부모가 함께 웃으며
    같은 페이지를 넘기는 시간을 꿈꾼다.
    아이를 위한 이야기인 줄 알았는데
    어느 순간,
    자기 자신의 이야기로 다가오는 그 순간을.

    나는 이야기를 쓴다.
    읽는 행위가 혼자가 아니라
    관계가 되는 순간을 위해.

    책이 물건이 아니라
    기억이 되고,
    하루의 대화가 되고,
    지역과 세대를 잇는 다리가 되기를 바라며.

    그래서 나는 글을 쓴다.
    아니, 솔직히 말하면
    그래서 글을 안 쓸 수가 없다.

    아이의 심장이 뛰는 순간을 떠올리지 않으면
    나는 한 문장도 시작할 수 없다.

    이것이 나의 희망이고,
    지금 이 글이
    그 희망이 처음으로 숨 쉬는 자리다.

  • Author Platform Challenge — Day 1: Assess & Prioritize

    “하루에 한 주제씩 실천하며, 31일 동안 작가 플랫폼을 완성하는 여정”
    이 챌린지는 하루하루 작은 과제를 통해, 제 작품과 강점을 정리하고 출판사나 독자에게 잘 보여줄 수 있는 작가 플랫폼을 구축하는 프로젝트입니다.

    ① 지금 이미 가진 것

    창의적 경험과 스토리텔링
    글쓰기와 스토리텔링 경험을 바탕으로, 그림과 음악, 클래식, 문학 등 다양한 예술 분야를 즐겨 생활하며, 이러한 경험들이 제 작품에 색과 깊이를 더합니다.

    다양한 삶의 경험
    이민자로서의 이방인 생활, 엄마이자 할머니로서의 삶, 친구들과의 다양한 체험 등, 여러 세대와 문화 속에서 느낀 경험들은 저의 창작에 생생한 현실감을 부여합니다.
    저는 스쿠버 다이빙, 스노클링, 산악회 등산, 산악 자전거 등 다양한 활동을 통해 도전에 두려워하지 않고 긍정적인 마인드를 유지하는 법을 배웠습니다.
    또한 18살 때 읽은 책에서는, **“월급은 단순히 시간당 받는 것이 아니라, 누군가 처리하지 못할 업무를 처리할 수 있는 능력에 대한 대가”**라고 배웠습니다. 이러한 경험과 사고방식이 오늘날 제 창작과 삶의 태도를 형성했습니다.

    지식과 배움
    호기심이 많아 다방면에 관심을 가지며, 문학·예술·역사 등 폭넓은 지식을 창작과 연결합니다. 이러한 배경은 이야기를 더 풍성하게 만듭니다.
    또한 저는 자기관리와 시간 관리에 능하며, 남들이 놓치는 디테일을 보는 예리한 관찰력을 갖추고 있습니다.
    다른 사람의 이야기를 경청하고, 상대를 편안하게 해주는 포용력과 배려심도 제 큰 장점입니다.

    ① What I Already Have

    Creative Experience and Storytelling
    Drawing on my experience in writing and storytelling, I enjoy engaging in painting, music, classical works, and literature as part of my daily life. These experiences add color and depth to my work.

    Diverse Life Experiences
    Living as an immigrant, experiencing life as a mother and grandmother, and engaging in diverse experiences with friends have given me vivid insights that enrich my creations across generations and cultures.
    Through scuba diving, snorkeling, mountain hiking, and mountain biking, I have come to recognize that my positive mindset is the driving force guiding me forward.
    Furthermore, a book I read at 18 taught me that a salary is not simply payment for hours worked, but a reward for the ability to handle tasks that others cannot. These experiences and mindset have shaped both my creative work and my approach to life.

    Knowledge and Learning
    I am curious across multiple fields and connect my wide-ranging knowledge of literature, arts, and history to my creative work. This background makes my stories more layered and compelling.
    I am also skilled in self-management and time management, and I possess a keen eye for details that others may overlook.
    Additionally, I have the empathy and generosity to truly listen to others and create a sense of comfort and ease in interpersonal interactions.


  • Gulf Harbour Marina — A Beautiful Farewell on My Last Day in Auckland

    Today is my last day in Auckland.
    As I sit here at the airport waiting for my flight,
    the memories from just a few hours ago at Gulf Harbour keep returning to me—
    quiet, warm, and unexpectedly magical.

    The weather this morning was dramatic.
    While the west was drenched in heavy rain all day,
    the northern side greeted me with gentle showers
    that came and went like a soft conversation with the sky.
    It turned out to be the perfect mood for walking around
    the neighbourhood I may soon call my new home.

    When I reached the marina,
    the first thing that caught my eye was a large stingray
    gliding gracefully under the calm water.
    And just as the tide was shifting from high tide to low,
    the water suddenly surged upward—
    a moment so quick and so beautiful that I was left speechless.

    But the true highlight of the day came right after.
    A school of snapper—perhaps twenty of them—
    gathered near the dock as if responding to our footsteps.
    They circled around playfully,
    moving back and forth like little hosts welcoming us to their seaside home.
    It felt as if my family—Luka, Chloe, Harry, Cindy—
    were all there together on a tiny seaside picnic
    with these curious little fish joining the fun.

    That short encounter left such a strong impression on me.
    My first memory of Gulf Harbour has become
    a mix of wonder, warmth, and quiet happiness—
    the kind of moment that stays with you long after it passes.

    Sitting here at the airport now,
    watching planes taxi slowly across the runway,
    I feel grateful for today.
    For the sunset, the rain, the sea,
    and the unexpected little miracles that made this final day in Auckland
    a beautiful farewell.

  • 🌿A Journey Through Heat, Memory, and Quiet Realizations

    This morning began with a strange mix of air —
    humid, warm, a little heavy.
    The sky wasn’t one colour either;
    it shifted between grey clouds, white clouds, and slices of blue.
    A morning that felt exactly like people:
    depending on which side you look at,
    the whole story changes.

    I took the train from the city,
    hoping for something new, something refreshing.
    But as the line continued,
    I realized much of the eastbound route overlapped with the southern line.
    A little disappointment,
    because the explorer in me always craves the unknown.

    Still, I stayed on until the very end.
    When I stepped off at the last station,
    the heat hit me like a wave.
    Too strong, too sudden.
    So I slipped quietly into the Westfield mall—
    seeking shade, cool air, and a moment to breathe.

    But what surprised me more
    was not the heat.
    It was the crowd.

    A sea of unfamiliar faces,
    mostly Middle Eastern families,
    filling every corridor.
    For a moment, I felt like I was in another country entirely.
    Not uncomfortable… but slightly unanchored.
    A reminder that travel is sometimes about facing unfamiliar textures of life.

    I walked again,
    moved by wind and scent,
    drawn the way the protagonist in Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
    followed invisible trails.
    There’s something powerful about being led by the senses—
    you lose your direction,
    but gain a deeper awareness.

    🌿 Reflection in the Heat
    In moments like this,
    I think about Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel.
    How the environment we are born into
    can shape the entire path of a person, a nation, a civilization.

    But I also believe something else:
    What we choose to learn
    can re-shape our destiny just as powerfully.

    A dry land learns to pray for rain.
    A flooded land learns to build higher ground.
    And a wandering traveler learns
    by simply… wandering.

    🌿 A Thought of Gandhi & Mandela
    Walking through these streets,
    my mind suddenly drifted to Gandhi and Mandela—
    two people who held onto principle
    even when the world trembled around them.

    Their lesson came softly today:

    You don’t need to be loud to move forward.
    Sometimes, holding onto your inner dignity
    is the strongest form of resistance.

    Even confusion becomes direction,
    and discomfort becomes wisdom
    when the heart stays clear.

    🌤️ Ending the Day at the Harbour
    Back in the city,
    the downtown harbour brought me peace again.
    Sailboats were practicing on the water,
    moving like quiet strokes across a blue canvas.

    After wandering through heat, crowds, scents,
    and small moments of disorientation,
    I sat by the water and felt myself finally settle.

    Today’s lesson?
    Even when the world feels unfamiliar,
    there is always a place — a scent, a breeze, a quiet harbour —
    that reminds you
    that you can come back to yourself.


  • 🌿 Southbound Day — Learning as I Walk

    🌿 Southbound Day — Learning as I Walk

    I began my second day in Auckland by boarding a train from Henderson,
    transferring at Newmarket, and heading south—
    a journey that felt heavier and hotter than expected,
    wrapped in 25-degree humidity under a sky of mixed grey, white, and blue.
    A sky that reminded me of people:
    how depending on which side you face,
    you meet a completely different mood.

    Arriving in Pukekohe,
    I stepped into a quiet town that somehow felt familiar—
    a little like Picton, though there was no sea.
    Just a gentle stillness.

    I explored the main street,
    noticed how few people were around,
    and then sat at C3 Café for lunch.
    On the trains, I saw two passengers reading real paper books—
    how comforting that felt.
    Pages turning, worlds unfolding
    the analogue way that I still love.

    Earlier, in Ellerslie,
    I wandered in circles looking for the European-style village.
    I must have passed the same block three times.
    A local man noticed, smiled,
    and I smiled back.
    A tiny, human moment that felt warm.

    But that’s solo travel, isn’t it?
    You get lost, you sweat, you wander,
    and somehow everything becomes part of the story.

    A thought from Jared Diamond, author of Guns, Germs, and Steel,
    returned to me today:

    “The environment we are born into shapes our destiny.”

    But as I walked alone through a strange town,
    another truth formed in my heart:

    “What we learn can rewrite the destiny we were given.”

    Today, I learned through footsteps—
    through wrong turns,
    through the kindness of strangers,
    through the rhythm of trains linking unknown places.

    22,400 steps.
    22,400 little lessons.

    And this is why I love traveling alone:
    because no matter how many mistakes I make,
    I can follow my curiosity all the way
    until the journey quietly becomes my own story.

  • Following Scents Between Train Stops — A Journey Inspired by Perfume

    Between the first and second day of my train journey,
    I found myself becoming a little like the protagonist of Perfume
    drawn not by maps or plans,
    but by scents carried gently through each town.

    I stepped off trains without knowing where I would end up.
    Sometimes, a familiar floral scent would stop me in my tracks
    and bring a smile to my face —

    “Oh… this fragrance.”

    Other times, an unfamiliar scent brushed past me,
    awakening something inside me,
    as if a new emotion had quietly opened its eyes.

    And suddenly I remembered him —
    Grenouille, the strange, gifted, tragic genius of Das Parfum.
    He wandered through dark alleyways,
    guided only by the invisible trail of scent,
    losing himself in the pursuit of perfection.

    His talent was a curse,
    yet in some ways, far ahead of his time.
    He created the scent that made a crowd worship him,
    even after committing unforgivable acts.

    A monster, yes —
    but also, strangely, a pioneer.
    If modern perfumery exists the way it does today,
    one could almost imagine him
    as a twisted kind of inventor.

    But today, I borrowed only one thing from him —
    not the madness,
    not the darkness,
    only the love of scent itself.

    So I walked where the wind carried me,
    following the warm fragrance of flowers,
    the sweetness hidden in small towns,
    and the quiet poetry drifting through each stop.

    This journey —
    guided not by destination,
    but by sensation —
    feels like learning the world all over again
    with every breath.

  • ✨ “Westbound, with a Pocketful of Curiosity”

    The moment I step onto a train,
    I turn into a schoolgirl again —
    wide-eyed, curious, ready for anything.

    This morning, I left without plans.
    Under a sky painted with grey clouds, white clouds, and hints of blue,
    the world felt quiet, as if inviting me somewhere.

    I got off at Henderson,
    walked wherever the breeze pulled me,
    and paused wherever the scent of flowers stopped me.
    A soft, sweet fragrance drifted through the platform —
    reminding me of my childhood countryside,
    turning a strange town into something warm and familiar.

    Swanson was a tiny place.
    Just enough shops to live life.
    Quiet, simple, honest.

    Trains come only once every hour,
    so I took the gap as a gift
    and sat with a long black in a small café,
    watching the world move gently through the window.

    Somewhere nearby, roosters called to one another —
    as if having an endless conversation.
    Their voices sounded like:

    “Who will visit us today?”
    Full of hope and excitement.

    And not to disappoint them,
    I picked up my steps and returned to the station.

    As the train moved again, I thought:

    “The greatest gift of solo travel is this —
    you can get lost, wander, pause,
    and still arrive exactly where your heart wants to be.”

    Today’s steps: 19,400
    Today’s lesson: how to wander without fear
    Today’s feeling: travel always looks a lot like life.

  • ✈️ “I once vowed never to become the kind of mum who brings side dishes on a plane.”But life is funny.

    Somewhere along the way, I became a mother-in-law.
    Then a grandmother.
    And before I knew it, I was doing exactly what my own mother used to do.

    One day my son said,
    “Mom, your kimchi is the best.”

    And just like that—my pride softened.
    So here I am, packing kimchi into a ziplock bag, wrapping it in layers of plastic like a top-secret artifact, and standing at the airport like a woman on a quiet mission.


    🍱 Operation Kimchi: Activated at the Airport

    I strategically placed myself first in the boarding line.
    Why?
    So I could enter early, slide the bag of destiny under my seat,
    and sit calmly…
    as if absolutely nothing suspicious was hiding inside my carry-on.

    But the moment I sat down,
    I smelled it.

    Kimchi.
    Not loud, but assertive.
    Not rude, but unmistakably alive.

    Inside, I whispered:

    “Plane… please take off quickly…”

    Then passengers started filling in.
    And with people came smells.

    A swirl of sweat, perfume, deodorant,
    clothes that probably needed one more spin in the washing machine…

    And among all those scents,
    my little kimchi aroma
    began to blend in.

    That’s when it hit me:

    “Ah… my kimchi is innocent now.”

    “For the first time ever,
    I thanked the universe for the perfume of humanity—
    strong enough to save my kimchi.”

  • Nurturing Your Hoya: A Journey of Blooming at Home

    “When your heart is sincere, even the universe helps you.”

    After moving into my new home, what I worried about most was my Hoya.
    According to the plant guide, “Hoyas don’t like moving.”
    From that moment, I treated it as tenderly as a child adjusting to a new place.

    In my old home, the Hoya had just begun to bloom —
    so moving felt like asking an expectant mother to suddenly change hospitals.
    I couldn’t help but worry and whisper to it every day,
    “Don’t be afraid. You’ll bloom again soon.”

    Each morning I misted its leaves gently,
    and twice a week, I gave it a bit of nutrition,
    watching quietly, hoping for a sign of strength.

    Then one Sunday morning,
    in the calm light streaming through my window,
    the miracle happened —
    a tiny cluster of flowers had opened. 🌸

    After church, I looked again —
    this time, there were two blossoms forming,
    as if the Hoya was smiling and saying,
    “I’m home now. I’m all right.”

    At that moment, a thought touched my heart:

    “When your heart is sincere, even the universe helps you.”

    Perhaps my Hoya had felt my longing —
    perhaps the universe had heard it too.
    In that quiet connection between care and response,
    we both found our way to bloom again,
    together, in this new home. 🌿💫


    “When your heart is sincere, even the universe helps you.”

  • 🌕 The Moon Tonight – A Quiet Breath in the Sky

    I wish to live as gently as the moon among the clouds,
    and as freely as the clouds drifting through the moonlight.

    Tonight, on my way home from church,
    the moon wasn’t just beautiful — it felt quietly sorrowful.

    A full moon, wrapped in soft grey clouds,
    its light was not bright, but tender and pure.

    A quiet part of my began to drift and soak in that stillness.
    And then, the same gentle clouds that had shaped such peace
    moved swiftly, almost ruthlessly,
    and swallowed the fragile moon whole.

    For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
    All sounds, all thoughts, faded away.
    Then the moonlight returned, slipping through the clouds again,
    as if nothing had ever happened —
    softly touching the world with its calm light.

    Tonight, the moon was not just a glow in the sky.
    It was a silent prayer,
    a reminder that even sorrow can be beautiful beneath its light.