I can’t remember a time when I didn’t read. As a kid, I visited the bookmobile that rolled into the cabana club parking lot down the street twice a week. I was afraid of the driver, a large hulking man with bushy brows and a permanent scowl, but I still loaded up my Radio Flyer wagon with the maximum number of books allowed per visit.
I read at the dinner table until my father’s glare became too obvious to ignore.
I read under the sheets with a flashlight.
I read in the back seat of the family station wagon on long road trips.
I spent my teen years in a small town in the Central Valley reading and writing forgettable short stories. I went away to college and enrolled in a couple of fiction writing classes taught by a wiry, chain-smoking professor from NYC who reminded me of Robert De Niro with a ponytail.
I write humorous contemporary romance. When I’m not writing, I’m on eBay (a very bad habit), baking or vacuuming (it stirs the creative juices), or blogging at Romance University.
They say writing is a solitary occupation. But I never feel alone because I’m blessed with a terrific team of beta readers and critique partners who patiently slog through my drivel. I appreciate their brutal honesty and cherish their friendship.
The content of this blog reflects my interests, observations and obsessions. Please feel free to join in the conversation.
