Spring's Story

It would take more than a lifetime to tell the whole story of anyone, so I'll tell you the story of how I became a writer. 

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It started with a little red journal when I was about 11, with a couple entries about the new friends I met when I moved to Seattle in the beginning of the year. 

I didn't write much until depression caught me around age 13. By age 14, my journal was my best friend, walking after school to the beach with me and a jar of some nasty concoction of an alcoholic mixture I'd stolen from my dad.

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I now have about 40 writing journals and 10 drawing journals. Sometimes they provide inspiration, but mostly they just hang out in my creative room, like good friends who love me regardless of how often I visit.

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Many lives are captured in them - from lost to found and back and around again, many times over. 

​​Writing has been my friend aaallll these years. Now I'm bringing her into the light of other people's eyes.

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At this moment, I feel I'm presenting her to the world the way a sea cucumber spits out its guts if you poke it too hard...

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But, really, I'm inviting you to share the light the way Winnie the Pooh would invite you in for some honey (I love honey the way some people love wine).

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I've worked on Rosemary's Way since before my Mum passed in 2022. I knew I would write about the experience because it was the most powerful, dramatic, traumatic, heartbreaking, and beautiful experience of my life. 

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I didn't know the writing would turn into a book until she looked me in the eye and asked me to, about two months before she died. I promised her I would, so I did.

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And now it's alive in the world, as ready to be read as it will ever be, and it's up to me to get our story into the world. 

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I have other writing in the works, always, but now I'm ready to call myself A Writer and An Artist, as I've dreamed of for most of my life. 

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I feel like I've come home.

Welcome. Would you like to come in for some honey and stories? (And maybe some tea, too?)

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