About the Author

My father, a practical man, regarded me with a long and thoughtful expression when, after two years of diligent wandering through the halls of academia, I was at last required to declare my main course of study. I had found delight in many pursuits—psychology, art history, and a host of other disciplines that seemed to invite curiosity more readily than certainty. In the end, I chose not according to ambition, nor according to prudence, but according to where my affections and accumulated credits had most faithfully led me: English Literature.

It is perhaps no great betrayal to admit that my father received this decision with little enthusiasm, being a man concerned with such earthly matters as stability and livelihood. Yet I also know his concern was rooted in a wish for my safety.

My mother, by contrast, was my steadfast supporter, encouraging my pursuit of the arts in whatever form they took, and offering a steadier faith in my inclinations than I had in myself.

I carry their influences still—my father’s caution, my mother’s encouragement and hope.

In this place, I wish to offer a public word of thanks to them both. They gave me all that they could while I had them. I remain eternally grateful to have been blessed with them as my parents. I hope, in some manner beyond sight, they know this still.

There was an intermission of nearly nine years in my publishing life. Chronic illness carried me away from everything I loved. I continued to write when I was able, but many stories remained unwritten, or at least unpublished. During those years, I devoted myself to the long and often humbling labor of trying to regain some measure of health and function.

I cannot claim to have returned unchanged; perhaps none of us do after such passages. Yet I am profoundly grateful to have regained enough of myself to begin sharing my stories once more. To recover even a small part of one’s creativity after fearing it lost is a gift beyond measure, and I am glad to have found a piece of myself again.

Throughout those years, animals remained my daily joy and steadfast companions. As a lifelong animal advocate, I have spent many years traveling slowly with a rotating cast of foster animals, many of whom became permanent companions along the way. They carried me through years of illness and isolation, and they continue to make every destination feel more like home.

And so here I am—still creating art, still writing, still searching for beauty, imagination, and understanding, and profoundly grateful to be able to share that journey once again.