I’ve always loved to write. From the time I could hold a pen, I was scribbling words, which were largely illegible but they were stories in my head. As I grew older, I loved to people-watch and listen in on conversations whenever I could. Something as simple as a woman in front of me in […]
I first fell in love with story’s ability to transport, to expand the borders of my reality. I recall crouching beneath my parents’ kitchen counter as a child, losing Sunday afternoons reading. That words printed between book covers could take me to far off worlds, on journeys that left me forever changed, was, to me, […]
I was always a writer; always kept a journal. I’m sixty-three and I have journals going way back. The oldest was written in the hospital when my son was born. He’s forty now. After my first divorce I wrote about the house I bought on my own, a chicken coop on a busy highway in […]
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