I learned to love words at the proverbial knees of my mother and my Grandpa Ed. I write to explore and make sense of the world.
Mom was an author of history, poetry, and memoir. She supported and inspired my composition of words before I knew what to do with a pencil. She was my first editor (a professional), urging me to write well through her gentle and abundant markups on my school papers and stories. And one day she printed and hand-delivered a manuscript I emailed to her from across the country, on the submission deadline, since the journal didn’t take electronic submissions. That manuscript became my first published short story. I have been honored to voice Mom’s work posthumously when her writing group has offered readings.
Grandpa Ed was a journalist and a word trickster. If my mother inspired my desire to write, I can credit Grampa Ed with inspiring my love of words. He would greet me after school with a riddle or what he called a hanky panky to figure out. He and my grandmother encouraged me to “cheat” at Scrabble by looking up possible words in the dictionary.
I am grateful to many writing friends. My writing buddy Sarah has taught me many things, including to be more disciplined about writing. A group of amazing women, my Tuesday writers, invited me to join their critique group when I needed them most. I’m happy to call the siblings of Sisters in Crime and others throughout the worldwide community of writers my extended family.