A Saturday drive and a family secret though the eyes of a never-named mute passenger.  ◊ An estranged father, all he reaches for, and everything he can’t hold onto. ◊ The suddenness of a teen getting what she’s wished for. ◊ A runaway wife ends up more than just free of her brutal husband...

What I Write

Words of the Heart

... ◊ A hardworking mother’s rationalizations and promises. ◊ A girl’s odyssey while in a  Navy psyche ward. ◊ A youngster’s role as little-mother in a hectic family. ◊  A dying woman and the young storyteller she invites into her life. ◊ A study in brotherhood, death and denial. ◊ A phone call from an old flame making amends goes askew. ◊ 14 Darvocets results in a fateful afternoon. ◊  The moral decision a youngster makes in spite of family alienation. ◊ A woman with a sudden windfall dwells on what she’s leaving behind. ◊ A chilling flash fiction piece studies family ties. ◊ An alcoholic makes all the wrong decisions. ◊ The haunting night before a troubled woman’s children are removed to care.◊ A runaway teen, returned home makes a hard choice.
A reader once emailed me comments about a story of mine. She wrote:

Why do you always break my heart with your stories? 

I have to tell you, as I did her: I don’t write them that way; they just sometimes seem to do that.
I’m serious about my stories, and I’m a serious creativity coach. But I’m not out to grab you by the throat. I use uncomplicated, calm words, they just seem to slice and nip at readers all the same. Lo Siento.  I’m sorry to bring you close without the warning. Let me amend that here:


My stories may move you. You may think: Oh, wow. Or Damn!  Or possibly, you’ll say, That line just comes back to me and in my mind, that scene keeps repeating.

Maybe your view of life is from streets similar to the ones I’ve frequented, and these stories may have little effect; except recognition. That could happen. I take sense memories, like joy, despair, anticipation, guilt, bewilderment, confusion & freedom, and use them to build places for my characters to live. We’ve all felt those things at one time or another. I use that sense memory mortar & brick to build the lives I create on the page.  Smooth walkways, nothing to trip over. Doors cracked open enough that you don’t need to bother knocking. Windows to the left and right for a peek inside.  Nothing new or unique. Just slices of life. I only suggest you take the risk. Go on, look.

(this post first publsihed on EJ's old wordpress blog: http://wp.me/p1ZaPu-i)