This Place Called Home

Last week, I drove back to the old neighborhood where I grew up, where my parents lived across the street from a military academy, where I met my future husband. In the place of a once stately house where the head of the school lived, a skeletal structure under construction with a three-car garage juttedContinue reading “This Place Called Home”

If You Don’t Write, Life Is Just One Thing After Another

We live in a world where too often people are glued to their screens, they’re not getting outside, taking a walk, just living, just observing, just listening to someone else. See that’s the joy of being a writer. All of that is part of your job description. And in the end, you’re making sense out of “one damn thing after another.”