The Big Truth: I love to write. As many of you know, I like to sponge bathe in words, sunbathe in words, swim in words, sashay in words. It isn’t as if I despise water or the sun or proper forms of dancing, though bathing is indeed further down my priorities list . . . It’s just that those things don’t hold a pool toy or a coconut-suncreen-scented candle to the overpowering lure of language. I play with words and that means I traipse right over any boundaries between genres. On this website, you’ll find a dizzying array of short stories, essays, poetry, and perhaps even a sheer tidal wave of words. If you’ve ever received one of my (*cough) legendary emails or hard-to-decipher handwritten notes, you’ll know I have quite a lot to say. On the other hand, when I’m copyediting, I’m happily floating on a tidy and well-behaved boat wearing a life vest sponsored by The Chicago Manual of Style. The CMS wants me to preach their religion of rules and, by golly, I do. Clients hire me because I am liberal with smiley faces yet relentless with repeated words. (NO. You cannot smirk or peer or peek three dozen million times. Who does that?) I split my time between writing (creative and freewheeling side) and copyediting (don’t try to pull that stunt, Buster) because this keeps my brain as healthy as all those people who have the New York Times spread across their laps during daily commutes while they puzzle through the crossword. (Dream of a day when daily commutes will again be a thing we can imagine without cringing a little.) I don’t always [or often] behave and I do sometimes cuss. Despite all that, generous publications have been willing to run my work between their covers, rather than shove my pages under the proverbial bed or into a dusty and disused corner. I’ve even managed to win a few awards along the way, and trust me, we beginning writers don’t make enough money to bribe the judges. (Experienced writers have enough talent that bribes would never enter their minds.) If I’m composing an email or a blog post, then I’m rarely serious, so please don’t take me too seriously. My tongue is planted in my cheek unless I’m eating a donut or drinking coffee, two favorite pastimes. Writing being the third, of course. Marvelous that we can drink coffee, eat donuts, and be writers, all in one.

The plan: I have two years to play around, publish short works, build a fan club, keep editing for talented authors, and keep you at least mildly entertained along the way. By 2022, I’ll graduate from the Book Project and will be expected to have a serious and award-winning literary novel in hand, ready to publish. The book won’t be funny. I mean, it might be, but probably I’ll pour all of my serious introspection into it to ensure this novel goes down in the annals of history as something worth reading.

True confessions: If you like my drivel, leave me a thumbs-up or a comment and I’ll keep pumping out poetry and prose at a prodigious rate. But Lighthouse Writers / the Book Project is counting on me to keep their stellar reputation intact by the end of 2022. Do note that during these two years, I’ll be conducting real research and doing actual rewriting and revising and running my pages by beta readers and sensitivity readers. I care about people’s feelings. To spare those of you who might be predisposed not to like my work, let me tell you that I really love the LGBTQ+ community and I’m out and proud about my affiliations therein, as well as my beloved veterans’ communities. There is no shoving myself back into little boxes, in case I ever spent any time in a little box (which I can’t really remember doing, though I clearly remember that time I crawled into a hollow log and found it was already occupied by a raccoon with glowing eyes).

My official face (glammed-up) and my real face (makeup free and ready for a hike with the mule deer): If you’d like to read a serious / semiprofessional “About Me,” then check out my LinkedIn bio, which I keep around in case I ever want to step back into a mainstream job. Or read one of my bios in any of the various anthologies or literary magazines that have brazenly taken the plunge and included me in their list of authors. I am capable of being good for anywhere between fifty and one-hundred words. After that, the rebel in me comes streaming out through my fingertips and my keyboard.

So, are you in? Coming along for the ride? If so, we’ll go places that are speculative and lyrical and dangerous and edgy, as well as poetic and calming and invitational and joyous. There are at least two hundred more stories and essays locked in my computer or packed in a box in a back room or stuffed in a cubby or a file folder somewhere. That many more trapped in my head, awaiting the chance to escape. I’ll do my best never to bore, except for the occasional story I wrote to convince my family members that I have a sweet and pure side. Yeah, I’ll sprinkle in a few of those because some people are rather fond of upbeat literature with a hint of a happy ending.