I remember once hearing someone say, "Now, that's a life worth writing about!" after listening intently to another's tale of a wild adventure in an equally wild, halfway-around-the-world location. And I suppose it was true; still, I mentally interjected, I resemble that remark, on hearing the conversation. Aren't all lives worth writing about?
After all, the same world where some gauge worth by the number of friends and followers one has on social media also includes folks who haven't got time for such frivolity; instead, they're just trying to get by. I share George Eliot's view that "the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts." It's those who engage in such acts (and their lives) that I choose to write about.
I've been writing forever it seems, but until recently, it was only for myself. I grew up in rural western Pennsylvania, the youngest of eight children, in a home that was full of noise and homemade bread and a shared love of the outdoors and (usually) each other. Life after college took me elsewhere, and across the years I found myself in various jobs as I married and raised four children. I indulged my passion for writing when I returned to college to become certified to teach high school English; I continued my studies at Wilkes University while teaching, and earned a Master of Fine Arts degree.
Although short fiction is my genre of choice, I also write across the genres along with a bit of critical work every now and again. I've been published in some pretty nifty journals, like Slice, Feminist Studies, The Good Men Project Magazine and Florida English; you'll find a smattering of all of this online. I now teach college-level writing (both the academic and creative varieties) and literature as an adjunct and cutivate my own gardens (literally and figuratively) on the farm where we live, in an area where unhistoric acts happen everyday.
After all, the same world where some gauge worth by the number of friends and followers one has on social media also includes folks who haven't got time for such frivolity; instead, they're just trying to get by. I share George Eliot's view that "the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts." It's those who engage in such acts (and their lives) that I choose to write about.
I've been writing forever it seems, but until recently, it was only for myself. I grew up in rural western Pennsylvania, the youngest of eight children, in a home that was full of noise and homemade bread and a shared love of the outdoors and (usually) each other. Life after college took me elsewhere, and across the years I found myself in various jobs as I married and raised four children. I indulged my passion for writing when I returned to college to become certified to teach high school English; I continued my studies at Wilkes University while teaching, and earned a Master of Fine Arts degree.
Although short fiction is my genre of choice, I also write across the genres along with a bit of critical work every now and again. I've been published in some pretty nifty journals, like Slice, Feminist Studies, The Good Men Project Magazine and Florida English; you'll find a smattering of all of this online. I now teach college-level writing (both the academic and creative varieties) and literature as an adjunct and cutivate my own gardens (literally and figuratively) on the farm where we live, in an area where unhistoric acts happen everyday.
