I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD-SLAPS, SPEED-BUMPS and LIGHT-BULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life, is the name of my memoir/essay collection with why I wrote what I wrote and what happened after. They were published once and as every writer knows, once is not enough.


Monday, October 19, 2015

Port side only, thank you very much

Haven't posted in awhile because I have had a bit of a medical setback. Started experiencing right hand pain, not related to writing but related to doing something stupid at work, I think. Got to the point where a 4am emergency room visit seemed warranted. So now I'm splinted and pretty much hunting and pecking with a very overused and now sore left hand. (I'm right handed.)
I am adamant about continuing to work on my novel so this post is short and probably one of only a future few until my hand heals.
My husband says there are two kinds of people in the world, those that are left handed and those that want to be. Yup, he's a leftie and so am I until this thing takes care of itself.

Have you ever been forced to use the side less able?