More about Me
I write about marriage. About how to navigate between separateness and togetherness. About how to balance the need for both time to myself and time together. About what compromise does to a person’s sense of self.
My current passion is writing novels. In addition to Tidal Flats, I’ve written three others. Yes, all about marriage. So far, not published. My early stories, essays, and reviews appeared in Hunger Mountain, Brevity, Gargoyle, Contrary Magazine, Clapboard House, Storyglossia, and Numéro Cinq. For a number of years, which I think of as my crazy years, I served as the Review Editor for Contrary Magazine AND the Writing Life Editor for Hunger Mountain AND I was in graduate school AND in a writing group.
In 2012 I graduated from Vermont College of Fine Arts with an MFA in Creative Writing. Later that year, I was awarded a residency at Ragdale. Being able to write in a sacred place was amazing, and I often think of my time there in the Playroom and throwing pages down the stairs. In 2013, I became a founding board member of the literary nonprofit Writing by Writers. Pam Houston and Karen Nelson needed a third body, and I got to be it. The workshops are in gorgeous places with excellent faculty, and you can usually find me there selling books or fetching coffee.
I grew up in the sixties in the heart of Atlanta, went to college in North Carolina, spent a year teaching English in France, practiced law, and had kids. French was my first passion, but I had a free moment back in 1995, and when I thought about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I thought, books are so cool and I decided I wanted to do what they did.
I have a big family—four children and their significant others and five grandchildren right at this moment. If I have any free time and can stay off my computer, I clean out a drawer. At night, if it’s been a long writing day, I confess to Acorn TV over a book—something I need to work on.
Currently, I spend my days in Columbus, GA, with my husband, and in Provincetown, MA, in a little house by the water. Provincetown is my favorite place on earth.
T h e A r t o f
O u r L i v e s
I’ve been on this planet for 62 years, and I have a hard time understanding how that’s possible. How did the little girl that I was turn into the woman that I am? Can I look inside myself and find her? It feels as if I’ve lived my life mostly on the inside and for the past decade, I’ve been trying to excavate it. I feel tremendous gratitude to have been allowed all these years, and what I’m doing now is the best of the best.
Still, I want more. I always have. My mother was fond of saying how glad she was when I turned 16 and could run my own errands. But I have all these ideas, all these plans, all these lists. I want to figure out who I am. I want to figure out how to be in the world as I am in my head. But let me tell you, it does not come naturally. Just ask my husband.
In an effort to master the art of my life, I’ve found my way to a number of writing projects, all in an effort to get my insides out. Take a peek.
365 True Things
60 to 60
I took the 60 days leading to my 60th birthday and spent one day with each of my years, looking at photos and remembering all I could about that one year of my life.
This is 57
When I turned 57, I wrote an essay about how it felt to be 57 and how I was spending these days.
This is 58
When I turned 58, I wrote an essay about how it felt to be 58, trying to pay attention to whether it felt any different than being 57.
Back in the 70’s, when I was living in France, I used to read Elle Magazine, and each month they featured one woman and how she spent her days. In 2009, I began a series on my blog on how writers spend their days. Currently, I have over a decade of essays from over a hundred writers on how each one spent one of their days.
My Reading List
An Important Task
“She sees that she has before her an important task: to understand that all the things that happened in her life happened to her. That she is the same person who was born, was a child, a girl, a young woman, and now she is old. That there is some line running through her body like a wick.”
–Mary Gordon, The Rest of Life