The runaway writer, making every day an adventure.
If you've read my older blogs, you know that I toyed with the idea of starting a Patreon account to help with the costs to publish my book. I just couldn't do it. I know other authors who have and they have fun doing it. And lots of success. But it just wasn't for me.... Continue Reading →
I've missed you guys. So many things going on in Fernandina Beach. I started a job as a bookseller at a beautiful spot here called Story & Song Bookstore and Bistro. Actually two jobs - I'm in the Bistro as a chef about fifty percent of the time. So learning two new jobs and working... Continue Reading →
Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
Our lives are a puzzle - made of so many different, odd shaped pieces. Those weird ones with the sharp angles, dark red or deep blue, that look more like someone else's bad dream than a piece of your puzzle.
Kati is an amazing woman. Twenty years ago she was in the Peace Corps, traveling all over Africa making friends and teaching kids.
I bought Where The Wild Things Are at a scholastic book fair in 2nd grade for my little brother. He was four years younger and my little buddy. I couldn't wait to get home and read it to him. If I played hot wheels with him first, he'd let me read to him for as... Continue Reading →
Hey y'all! I'm back for a minute. Sorry I've been missing in action.Lots of good things going on here in Fernandina Beach.Let's see. I submitted a story to Live Ink Theater for their storytelling event in December and it was accepted. The theme is Hope for the Holidays and I'll be telling a story about... Continue Reading →
Walking in Linda's back field in a pair of faded overalls and a wad of Red Man chewing tobacco in his cheek with a determined look on his face. Focused on the divining rods in his hands, he looked like a country preacher or moonshiner, serious in his business.
When I was twelve or so, she is the person that realized I had a little bit of talent and no outlet – except for boys – and bought me my first set of paintbrushes and oil paints. I couldn’t find enough things to paint – nothing was safe, I painted EVERYTHING – even glass. She realized I needed more things to keep me busy – to keep me out of my mama’s hair and out of trouble – so she taught me Sherinschniette