I was seven years old when I first knew I wanted to be a writer.
On the musty front porch of my family’s small, two bedroom home, I was writing a short story, “The Clock that Wouldn’t Tick.” Traffic whizzed by and my younger sisters begged me to play, but I couldn’t hear them. I was in a story. There was no place else I’d rather be.
While I no longer possess that story, written by my tiny hand, I remember it was a tale about a clock whose time had stopped. Her friends happily ticked away, but she remained paralyzed and unwound. The day finally came when she was given the chance to do what she was made to do. Once she found her “voice,” she kept time with enthusiasm and joy. She resolved to not have it silenced again.
And so it is with writing. My first story has found me again.
The release of my first book,The Waiting Place, is the next step on this journey. Creating this project has been a labor of love. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.