Well, this is me …

The minute I finished reading Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time” I knew I was a writer. Meg Murry was real to me, not the product of a writer’s imagination. Every awkward moment, every insecurity Meg endured felt like something I’d been through, too. We knew each other, Meg and me. And I wanted to do what L’Engle did—to tell stories people would connect with.

I just didn’t know at the start that they wouldn’t be fictional stories.

I wrapped my entire identity around being a fiction writer for many years. In the very late 90s, I even published a piece of fiction in a prominent early online literary journal called The Blue Moon Review. That story caught the eye of someone at the William Morris Agency, and they were interested in potentially representing me… if I could show them a collection of short stories for consideration.

I had no collection, just one good story.

And two kids under five. And an abusive spouse.

So, my literary dreams were dashed. But I kept on imagining myself as a fiction writer. When the urge caught me, I’d pluck away at one iteration after another of the novel I’d been trying to write for over a decade while working as a writer and editor for my nine-to-five.

Then one day, I decided to experiment with writing about my own life. So I wrote a personal story. And then another. And then I realized that everything I’d loved about writing fictional characters—the joy of discovery—was still there when I wrote about myself. Every personal story helped me learn more about myself by untangling the events that shaped me.

And then I started publishing those stories online. And people started responding, telling me they saw pieces of their own stories in mine. My experiences made them feel less alone in their own, and the benefits were mutual.

And that’s why I do this.

Why subscribe?

I write about ordinary life with extraordinary honesty.

It’s not for everybody.

I’ve been told on occasion that my stories are too raw, too real, too vulnerable. But that’s exactly why I write them. Because whenever I talk about the things I’ve gone through, people say, “I’ve been there!” They may not have walked the same road, but the recognize the emotions.

Family. Love. Loss. Bad decisions. Good dogs. Choirs. Politics. ADHD. Getting older. Falling down. Getting back up. The moments that shape us in ways we don't recognize until years later. That’s what I write about.

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Whether you’re here to read or write, it’s going to be a real, heartfelt, vulnerable ride, and I’m happy you’re along for it.