I was born and raised among the green wildness of the Appalachian. My ancestors are part Irish, part Cherokee. As a child, I climbed oak trees, drained pines of their sap. Skinned my knees alongside the boys and nursed the broken wings of butterflies.
I learned to read and write at the early age of three. Expressing myself with words comes as naturally as breathing.
I did the whole college thing, astounding student loan debt and all. Post-college, and five degrees hang across my wall. Certifications, grad-school honors, the harrowing nine-to-five of practicums and internships where my twenties leaked like a faulty faucet.
My third decade has found me freelancing. Writing for the sake of writing because with the words comes a certain feel of freedom. My independent press and an online ezine is a dream, in and of itself. Monetary gain is of no relevance when it comes to realizing dreams.
I play with words. I administer my vision via digital art. I network with like-minded, free-thinking people. I accost my evenings of books. My kitchen wafts the constant smell of java bean. I bend my head in prayer to whatever forces mend their meanings into my hands and hair.
I am one with the universe, yet I am also alone. I have birthed a daughter from within my own bones. Watched her walk, taught her to read. She's part artist, part me.
I write from a townhouse nested in the outskirts of the historical downtown district, all sunny yellow siding and hardwood floors that freeze my feet come winter.
I love sweets. And I dream. A lot.
Talk to me, I want to know you. And that is all.
If you want to know more about me, visit my Author Page.