When I was eight years old, I told my parents that I wanted to write books when I grew up. Seeing no let-up in my enthusiasm by the time I hit my early teens, my parents bought me a huge old manual typewriter on which I pounded out stories at every available moment. Writing was my passion, and if I didn’t have my nose buried in a book, I was trying to write one! Most of those stories are now gone forever, shuffled here and there, I guess, and eventually lost somewhere between home and college and the first apartment my new husband and I moved into all those years ago. Occasionally I feel badly that I can’t read one or two of those early stories, and chuckle over the extremely melodramatic characters and story lines that I once thought were “perfectly poignant”!
I finished my second book for middle readers just before moving with my family from New York to Central Virginia in the autumn of 2013 (I’m shopping that manuscript around), and while I work on book #3, I enjoy blogging every now and again.