I knew early on that I wasn’t what most consider a “normal” child.
I’ll never forget the time my mom signed me up for softball (*gasp*.) I cried every time I had to show up for practice (as did my teammates.) I played right field; you know, the position least likely to which anything would ever be hit? I still remember the time I faced the only lefty in our entire league up at bat. A sharp crack sounded, then a ball flew my way, screamed toward me really, and here’s how I responded. I covered with my head with my glove, turned my back, and crouched in horror. I might have even squeaked a little bit. The collective disappointment from the dugout was audible. Yep, I was that kid.
I’m pretty sure my parents were worried about me.
My whole life I’ve been a thinker, a dreamer, an artist. I walked into trees while reading and wrote poetry in my room late at night. I was the reading-under-the-covers-after-bedtime-with-a-flashlight-so-I-wouldn’t-get-caught kind of kid. I loved the works of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, E.E. Cummings, Roald Dahl, Shel Silverstein, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Richard Adams, Paul Zindel, and many, many, many, others. Although those authors will never know it, they taught me much about imagery, euphony, alliteration, symbolism, assonance. I can now fully appreciate this mouthful of unwieldy words that shaped a part of who I am. I will always strive to include these qualities in my own work.
I don’t like to call myself a wordsmith. When I hear that reference, in my mind’s eye I see a huge burly blacksmithy writer banging away on a sentence with a giant mallet, to yield change by force. I prefer to weave words; intertwining threads into subtle, thoughtful, expression. I have always loved the connotation words carry and the differences in meaning a word can have when placed in different contexts. I purely enjoy how each word will fit a phrase more perfectly than any other. I also learned quickly that this was something not everyone understood and that grammar is not something that for many others, either feels right or it feels wrong. I have a true passion for imagery and was actually mournful when I discovered that when some people read the word “apple” they did not see a bright, shiny, juicy piece of fruit in their mind.
Writing and learning to edit makes me feel content in a way I can only describe as the “fit” of finally doing what I know I was meant to do. It’s a coming home, it’s falling in love, only with myself, and I get butterflies in my stomach every time I make a date with me.
But I also fight myself.
I am a forgetful word and information hoarder. I stash written ideas and phrases on scraps of paper; I have two full drawers-worth of snippets awaiting my attention, actually. Who knows if I’ll ever get to them? The thoughts on these paper strips pile up because I know if I don’t write down ideas when they come to me, I will lose them. Forever. In fact, you will often find me with a left hand completely covered in scribble because when inspiration hits (or an item for the grocery list, or a question I need to look up) most likely it will be when I’m driving and can’t rummage through my too big, too full, much too heavy purse. When I get out of the car, I’ll probably race past you, just hoping I can get to a pen and paper before I fail to remember not to wash my hands! I don’t mean to be rude.
I’m a published poet (Fredericksburg Literary Review) and author (“Loose Ends” in A Journey of Words and “The Rub” in A Haunting of Words, both anthologies by Scout Media). I currently live along the Rappahannock River in Fredericksburg, Virginia, but, born and raised in Southern California, my heart will always belong to the West Coast of the United States. Most of my written works are set in one of these two locations.
I’m a proud member of Virginia Writers Club (Riverside Chapter), James River Writers, and Fauquier Writers Critique Group.
My family keeps me going and is my biggest support. We always joke that we have such a great family. We truly enjoy spending time with each other. I mean, I’m not sure how often this happens in other households, but our kids (13 and 15) often seek us out to spend time with us instead of hiding in their rooms. I am so grateful for my husband Bill, my daughter Karah, and my son Logan.
I adore biology, history, anthropology and art, and…and…and… The list seems endless.
These days you’ll find me working on four separate novels, writing poetry, and producing short stories. I enjoy a life full of learning, family, friends, and sunshine. I still suck at sports, much to my travel soccer playing kids’ chagrin, but I have made an effort to play with them…once…or twice.
I love quiet moments, a nice Napa wine, and find peace in a good thunderstorm.
I will always stand for equality.