Life
has a way of sneaking up on us, sneaking past us, snaking its way through the
years in ways both familiar and alien. Familiar because we can look back and
pinpoint times when the longings felt the same and yet time reformed their
meaning and circumstances rerouted the hoped-for conclusions. Alien because the
decades spent putting dreams aside almost obliterated and made foreign the
unrivaled joy to be found in doing that one thing one was born to do.
I have been fascinated by words since the age of three and, from the moment I learned to read, have been delighted by the written word. However, no halls of higher learning beckoned me to explore possibilities or hone skills in the writing or journalism arena. Once in a while over the years a submitted essay, article or poem of mine would be accepted for publication in the local paper or a quarterly literary magazine. Writing courses fulfilled a need to practice my often solitary craft with like-minded people.
Two years ago an acquaintance hired me to format and edit her book of prose. In vastly different ways, that endeavor was a delightful learning experience for both of us. During that time I also edited and assisted in research for a
I have been fascinated by words since the age of three and, from the moment I learned to read, have been delighted by the written word. However, no halls of higher learning beckoned me to explore possibilities or hone skills in the writing or journalism arena. Once in a while over the years a submitted essay, article or poem of mine would be accepted for publication in the local paper or a quarterly literary magazine. Writing courses fulfilled a need to practice my often solitary craft with like-minded people.
Two years ago an acquaintance hired me to format and edit her book of prose. In vastly different ways, that endeavor was a delightful learning experience for both of us. During that time I also edited and assisted in research for a
