Storyteller: I write stories big on character and heart, usually twisting and suspenseful, often dark and funny, with historical tensions swirling under the surface and flashes of the fabulist. In this space, I also write short essays and poetry, micro-fiction, and updates on publications and life. I first learned this art from my grandmother, who in nearing her centenarian milestone is still one of the wittiest and wonderful storytellers I know.
Dreamer: If you’d like insight into this aspect of me, spend a little time on my blog. It’s all here.
Survivor: But aren’t we all? My battles include: my parents’ divorce, my father’s death from lung cancer when I was eighteen; a loving but unsteady upbringing that had me frequently uprooted and trying to fit in to new places and feeling perpetually “other”; my own breast cancer diagnosis and treatments, which involved a double radical mastectomy and numerous reconstructive surgeries; my own divorce. I have raised four amazing children, remarried a wonderful man, became a step-mom to three also amazing kids, and relocated to ridge-top acreage in the beautiful Driftless Region of SW Wisconsin – a place with an extraordinary view, a host of rescued pets, and an abundant supply of the kind of nature-driven inspiration that I adore. I recently received my MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College in Boston.
Human: I shouldn’t need to say this, but every word written here is my own. I don’t use AI in writing or in research. Most images on these pages are also my own, taken by myself or my daughter. The last few years, this blog’s top visitors have been AI. One of my works-in-progress, which I had self-published years ago and subsequently removed from publication to further develop, is listed on The Atlantic’s database of pirated books that Meta used to train AI. No one asked my permission, and I haven’t been paid a dime. This information is being used to train AI models with the goal of replacing real human beings in many aspects of work, including creative writing. This space is #AI-free.
I began this blog in 2016 under the tagline “cracking the past’s glass,” and, over the years, I have written many pieces jabbing at glass ceilings, not only of a culture of toxic masculinity but also at the trappings of bigotry and greed that build walls when we should be building bridges. The poor still go hungry. The homeless abound. We derail programs instead of fixing them–National Health Care, anyone? More than 40% of cancer patients in the United States file for bankruptcy within two years of diagnosis. The global pandemic illustrated the imbalances in our systems. We engage in endless arguments about pointless things instead of listening and looking for compromise. These themes are often threaded through my fiction and poetry, forming a colorful and, hopefully, poignant tapestry of words.
I won’t stop jabbing. I am motivated. I move my pen. Ink flows.
I invite you to pull up a chair and stay.
Just watch where you step.
I break things.
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