It’s about words, really.
I have always loved to write. I remember writing lots of poetry and songs as a little girl… and Dear Diary entries. (Actually, it was “Dear Di Di…”. Of course I had a nickname for my journal; we were besties, after all.) One of my favorite childhood writings was “The Mystery of the Mansion of the Wannnnndering Eyes”– a production co-written with my BFF, Meggy Fishy. We produced it complete with sound effects, recorded on those super high-tech (ha) cassette tape recorders from the 1970’s. In 7th Grade, I wrote an essay on my father, highlighting his quirky habits and his purple socks. That’s when my Language Arts teacher Mr. Beaman-Who-Wore-His-Glasses-on-the-Top-of-His-Head told me that I was a writer, and I believed him. Oh, thank you, Google! Here’s a photo of beloved Mr. Beaman, with his glasses actually on his eyes for a change:
Later in school, I was that peer of yours who loved open-response questions on tests, far more than multiple choice. And in high school and college, I just LOVED blue book exams—salivated over them, really (ahem, word nerd). At Centre College, I minored in Psychology and majored in English Literature–my favorite class was a study of Faulkner taught by
the hot professor Mark Lucas. As arts editor for our college paper, The Cento, I immersed myself in two of my favorite things: art and writing. I loved sharing my admiration for other people’s art by using my own words to tell their story.
After graduation, I began working for a publisher in Nashville and was soon writing children’s books for their imprint, which developed into a freelance writing ‘work for hire’ position that spanned decades. Fast forward to another publishing job in Portland, OR, including catalog design, and then evenutally landing in Northern California with an advertising career. Although I served in the account services role, I was still surrounded by words. Creative words. Words that worked, written by creative (often messy) people.
Then we moved to Louisville, KY, where I became a mother–gaining even greater appreciation for words…and a heightened desire to share them. After all, children are inspiring little
messes muses. Their words breathe new life into this beautiful (albeit, messy) world.
I continued to write children’s board books, gift books, and devotionals– but never with my name on the cover since they were ‘work for hire’ and therefore owned by the publisher. Yes, my name in print would have been nice, but I was fulfilled enough by the thrill of just seeing my books in the $1 Spot at Target, with people actually putting them in their cart (heck, who wouldn’t for only a buck?!). Then Facebook happened, and after seven years of incessant
bordering on obsessive postings and status updates, friends kept urging me, “You should really write a book.” I ignored them. Time after time, it kept coming up. And time after time, I kept squashing it down. (I mean, as if I am organized enough to undertake that mountain at this phase in my life…I can barely stay alive on my little ant hill.)
Then the calendar turned to January 2014. One of the women whom I adore most in the world said, “I want you writing a book… this year.” I politely dismissed her suggestion (by not ‘liking’ that comment). “At the very least, a blog,” another friend replied. And then the woman whom I adore acquiesced, “I will accept a blog…”.
The next morning I registered this domain.
And so here I am, once again…writing words.