So you know I’m a writer. I write literary romances that are full of substance and romance. I tend to write in my head all the time, like when I sleep, breath, pet cats, am forced to make dinner, and even while doing my job as an adviser for students at an art college in the South—
I mean…I—I—I write at other times too.
I love international flights when they’re delayed and my Mac and I can dive into a bar. There’s nothing better than an hour or two lost (too quickly) in pages I didn’t know were waiting for me.
I hate schedules, real life, cross-country skiing, and moodiness not inside of me. Not that I enjoy it in me. I’m just used to it, and it feeds scenes in my books, see?
I giggle at everything. I don’t judge easily. People say I’m kind/genuine/shy/stubborn/annoying/aloof/boring, but above it all, I am passionate. A Dragon of the Chinese zodiac and an Aquarius with all-the-air and the brightest color palette. Incidentally, that last fact could be why no one wants to buy the house I’ve got for sale.
But mostly, I love to write.