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I’ve been creating stories and building worlds for as long as I can remember.

As a kid I wrote stories and poetry in spiral bound notebooks and hardcover journals with teddy bears on the cover. I created elaborate barbie houses from found objects around the house and worked up detailed backstories for their lives. I invented radio programs, choreographed dances, staged photo shoots, and invented games with friends. All the stuff of childhood.

And then I grew up. And I hid my storytelling self. I kept journals and jotted notes. Mostly, I daydreamed while doing “adult stuff” like working and mowing the lawn and running on a treadmill. For years, I kept that side of me hidden. Until I had kids of my own. And it was like they were each delivered with a key that unlocked the storyteller I’d kept secreted away.

And I started writing and creating again.

It began with a blog. Then my first Nanowrimo. I developed a writing routine. I wrote down story ideas in a notebook. I went to coffeeshops and drank lattes and typed on my computer. I stole moments when the kids were sleeping, or my husband was home. Then they went to preschool, and I spent every one of those moments writing. I joined a writer’s group and started sharing my writing. It got slaughtered. And I learned. I wrote more. I joined Pennwriters and the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. I attended classes and conferences. I went on a Highlights Foundations writers retreat.

And I wrote and wrote and wrote.

I read books on writing. I read books in my genre.  I began to understand what really goes in to writing a good novel. My preschoolers grew into elementary schoolers and I stood at a crossroads. Get a real job and make real money and appease society and what it thought I should be doing. Or, write.

I wrote and wrote. I drafted query letters and pitches and synopses. I submitted. And I got rejected. Again and again and again. And still I wrote. Every November I participated in Nanowrimo and finished another novel. I switched from lattes to americanos and varied the coffee shops I wrote in. I signed up for the Masterclass series and listened to great writers talk about the craft. I followed authors on Instagram. I tried different approaches to revisions. And I wrote some more.

Now I write. I struggle. I question. I wonder if I’ll ever share my stories with a world beyond family and friends. But I don’t stop. I learn and relearn. I draft and redraft.

And, I write.

Welcome to my website. I’m glad you’re here.