My Blog

My Blog

06
I have a ten-pound gray poodle and two cats. They are sweet and affectionate, adorable and playful. From Frisco, I get unconditional love and writing breaks when we go for walks. Bruno is my big gray and white striped baby who loves to cuddle and Dante, my black cat, is a gentle angel. Like most siblings, they fight. It’s why I’m glad they don’t have cell phones, and thumbs. Not only would I have to endure their endless texts, they’d use up all the minutes on our family p...

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19
It is said that everyone has one true love in life, but I have learned this is not true as I have fallen in love many times. As a child, I was in love with my parents who protected, nurtured and guided me. Dad made up bedtime stories that carried into daytime hours. Mom encouraged me to be brave and try new things: food, activities, and friends. They told me I could achieve anything. When I was eight years old, I wrote my first book about the weather. I covered two pieces of cardboard with w...

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29
I like cemeteries. There are names for people like me such as tombstone tourist, cemetery hunter, and graver, which are not to be confused with a taphophile who is someone who loves cemeteries and funerals. I dislike funerals. The first rural cemetery, also called a garden cemetery, was Mount Auburn (1831), near Boston, Massachusetts. The second was Mount Hope (1834) in Bangor, Maine where my sister and nephews live. Recently I took a tour of Mount Hope conducted by the Bangor Historical Socie...

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22
I strive to write the best books and essays possible. I hope my words matter, entertain, make people think, encourage and motivate. I write a weekly blog post to hone my skills and to share my thoughts on topics that intrigue me, concern me, anger me, or make me smile. I write novels to share stories that my brain can no longer corral, and to have an excuse to research topics that interest me and, hopefully, that interest my readers. I attend an MFA program in creative writing to be the best wri...

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15
My cell phone rings each weekday morning at 8:30. It is My Person on the other end. “Hi there. How are you?” she asks. “Good. And you?” “Good.” Our chats begin in this mundane fashion each morning. Sometimes we speak for a few moments as one of us has to go, or the connection is bad and we’re frustrated. Other calls last longer. Our conversations contain fluff with details of the evening before, or particulars of what the new day may bring. Our t...

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