I write novels. Ever since I wrote the first one in the fall of 2014, I can’t seem to stop.
Unless the muse leaves, and then I gnash my teeth and weep over the rubble that my life has become. Then the muse comes back, and life again becomes a meadow to be danced through.
I absolutely love writing, and have ever since I penned my first novel at age six. It was called “Cry Baby.” Every page was an explosion of question marks and exclamation points, and the main character (probably living out a fantasy of mine) was constantly insulting everybody. One of my favorite of her tirades: “You hard-hearted, unloved, unthink-for-yourself, baby-brained computer-directed cry-baby!” You can read more about that here.
I also scribble poetry, but you’ll never see it.
Okay, maybe you’ll see it, but only if it’s past midnight and I’m feeling crazy and reckless.
Oh yeah, and I wrote a cozy mystery. You’ll never see that either, and you’ll never know how grateful you are not to have seen it. That was the novel that proved (to myself) that I could write a novel, work out plot twists, and generally forge through from beginning to end. Its purpose has been served, and now it will live rent-free on Google Drive forever and ever.
I’m represented by Lauren Bieker at FinePrint Literary.