The runaway writer, making every day an adventure.
I can't believe it's almost over. I knew that 2019 was going to be a good one, but I had no idea it would go out with such a bang. Y'all. Walking The Wrong Way Home has sold over 300 copies since the publishing date of 11-26th. I had my first book event at Story... Continue Reading →
So many things going on here! I've been busy, so I'll catch you up. First - I've received 237 pre-orders for Walking The Wrong Way Home. Thanks everybody for supporting me! You helped more than you know. The money received helped pay for artwork for the book, marketing, mailing supplies and books for the event.... 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 →
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