as people often do.

He was straight laced and corny, with a penchant for expensive shoes and designer gifts. He had abominable taste in music and wore copious amounts of khaki. He golfed. I told him dirty jokes while slamming whiskey and dragged him to rock shows in filthy dive bars. I wore skintight denim and had his birthday tattooed on my wrist.

by any other name

i handed my identity over to a petite government agent with a head full of tightly wound curls. i scribbled my new signature on a sheet of paper and was promised a social security card with my new name in return. back in my beat up honda civic, i sat in the blistering heat and cried.

create peace

when you ask a woman on the brink of marriage, “how do you feel?” almost always the immediate and repeated answer is “so excited!” and with my own wedding just thirty baby days away, yes, i am psyched. i would also like to admit, for myself and for all women about to walk down the aisle, there are other feelings too!

writing isn’t about making money

“Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, or making friends. It’s about doing what you love the best you know how. It’s about making a heart pound in fear, shrink from rage, weep with understanding, or soar with excitement. It’s about making worlds and living in them deeply enough someone else can join you there.…