Welcome to my website.  I am a full-time mother, half-time teacher, and quarter-time writer.  I have no idea how much that adds up to, but I guarantee you I’m not earning a salary that pays me what all those hours are worth.  I am busy but fulfilled.

I grew up in the small farming town of Porterville, California, and later taught high school in Clovis for the first part of my career.  Nearly a decade ago, my husband and I moved to the greater Bay Area where we live with our three impish but spectacular daughters.  I am an adjunct English instructor at the local college, and I squeeze in writing between office hours and indulging in the passion that brought me to my career in the first place:  reading.

As a child, I read under the covers with a flashlight, I suffered at the dinner table when there was nothing better to read than the back of the ketchup bottle, and I shamefully admit that I might have once (or twice) strong-armed my friend whose father owned a bookstore into sneaking me books that wouldn’t readily be missed from the storeroom.  If she ever reads this, I apologize; I was under the spell of fiction.

During my childhood, it was Wilder who taught me that prairies and farms and crops and animals were things of bucolic beauty–powerful and peaceful at the same time.  It was Blume who made me feel normal and Silverstein who made me proud to be different.  It was the Weekly Reader fliers spilling from my backpack that inspired me to clean my room so I could purchase more books.  It was the otherworldliness of Carroll and Herbert, the grittiness of Dickens and O’Neill, and the humanity of Steinbeck and Collins (Wilkie, not Suzanne) that taught me not to read only for pleasure but also for the knowledge of how words work.

You would think that such a voracious reader would attack writing with the same exuberance, but I was shy, self-conscious, and afraid for anyone to see my writing.  There were times in middle school when I hid my essays at the bottom of the barrel-chested desk rather than share my ideas with the judgmental pre-teens in my class.  I kept my thoughts to myself or wrote in a locked diary when I needed to find a hiding place for them.

Thus, this website.  If reading has taught me anything, it’s that words are meant to be shared because others may learn from them.  I will be brave and strive to give my writing more than a quarter of my time.