About Me

 I wrote my first "book" at the age of nine. I punched holes in the hunt-and-peck typed pages, covered them with a laminated hand-illustrated posterboard and bound my book with gold round-headed fasteners. I hugged that homemade book to my chest, so proud of my accomplishment.

I didn't complete another book until the age of fifty.

It wasn't because I lacked passion. Or ideas, time or motivation. 

I lacked life experience.

I needed to live through losses and tragedies. Joys and loves.

I had to revel in my successes and learn from my miserable failures. Until I had felt the burden of the world's injustices and celebrated the generosity of the human spirit, I didn't have the words.

I lacked emotional depth.

But now, both wearied and buoyed by the years, I have the words.