When I was a child, I didn’t think of myself as a writer. I just wrote a lot. I mean, a lot, a lot. I have pages of poems, short stories, journal entries, school assignments, speeches, plays and hot-or-flop ideas from when I was very young.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized I was turning into my mother. This is a good thing, because she is a talented writer who has successfully written all kinds of things. Although my accolades of late have solely been in poetry in my little corner of Mesa, Arizona, my mother has published poems and stories for children’s magazines and has had her plays performed in dinner theaters in front of glowing guests.
Now, I have reached a place in my not-a-writer life. It’s a realization I had when I sat in a story conference in Los Angeles in late 2016. My realization is thus: I am not satisfied with submitting my work just to contests and fellowships. I tire of waiting for professionals to sift through their piles and find my work. I grow weary of only a handful of readers perusing the pages of my work that sometimes took years to complete.
This site is my writing portfolio. It is not perfect, as I am not perfect, but it will show my developing voice, my sense of humor, and my moxie. I share it with you, my reader.