Cathy Coley

Schooolz out for Covid

sphere puzzle bought circa 2002 finally opened now

sphere puzzle bought circa 2002, finally opened now

How's everybody doing? Are you okay?

I'm used to social isolation, so I'm doing fine in that regard.

The sixth grader took some adjustment, but finally got to work in Google classroom today, day two of canceled school, statewide. Usually, her birthday comes up during spring break in a couple of weeks, and finally isn't, but now she's celebrating with just us again, due to quarantine. Maybe we'll set up a mini-golf party with a few of her friends when this blows over.

I'm getting back on track with writing consistently, in a way I didn't for years, see prior blog. Otherwise, it's pretty much business as usual for me. I did frame and hang a couple of pieces of art yesterday, only moved into house about two and a half years ago, these may be the last of that.

Take care of yourselves. Don't forget that you don't have to be super productive while worrying about the state of the pandemic. Try to remember to breathe and be with the ones you love, whether it's just your cat, lizard, dog who you live alone with, or to stay in contact over the internet and through calls. We can do that now, unlike during the Black Death, or the 1918 flu epidemic. Read good books, and order more by smaller, lesser known authors to be delivered, or in ereader formats. Thanks!

Enjoy the unusual stillness of the world right now, because the panic online, when you turn it off, can be ignored for a while. I highly recommend having kitchen dance parties when you feel restless.

I want to thank medical workers and their families for the oncoming and current sacrifices they're making for the good of all. A retired military doctor friend and fellow author just volunteered to help out with his local EMS department. There's a lot of that going on, and I am grateful to those who can and do. Check out his book, A Knife in the Fog.

Be well, and thanks for stopping by.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, and Happy St. Gertrude of Nivelles Day, patron Spsaint of cats and gardeners.


updated: 2 weeks ago

Projects, Nuts and Bolts

Projects Nuts and Bolts

I often speak of being in a long fallow period with my writing, that I'm not really writing, or that I'm frustrated by it when I do write, and can only maintain for brief stints. But that's a lie. Kind of.

In the years since I wrote Felix, the reality is I have been writing in fits and starts, bits and pieces throughout. I have also been dealing with traumas, their fallouts and recovery, losing a parent, a major move, a surgery, and getting off really mentally interfering pain meds since a car accident in 2013. That was no small feat, and isn't to say I am off of medication, but I found one that is making me much more functional in life in general. That is a huge relief. I feel much more my old, enthusiastic and quickwitted self. I also still have two neurodivergent spawn who take extra care and handling and family and school management. Add two dogs and two cats. I am fortunate to be married to the primary income for our family, but his long hours leave the bulk of home management affairs to me, and, frankly, I am operating at a much diminished capacity since the car accident. Like many families these days, we are stretching paycheck to paycheck, which adds additonal layers of mental fill. So that leaves little mental and actual time and space for writing. But I have been doing it regardless, moreso daily in recent months.

At this point, I have amassed a number of projects and am organizing them and flushing out the many starts.

I have a ton of poems and a good number of short stories. I am in the process of revisiting them to edit and compile into collections.

I have at least two more viable children's books. One is a side project of Felix about his best friend Kelsey, the summer following the events in Felix. I'm not sure how I am going to manage to finish that one without visiting Ireland, since she is spending her summer there, and is where the bulk of her coming of age story takes place. It would be nice to have a more visceral sense of place to inform the narrative. The other is a little more magical realism/fantasy that I really do want to finish, though I got sidelined after reading Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which has the same premise. Eventually, it occurred to me that it is a pretty common one throughout imaginative literature, I can work with that.

And then there is the Memoir/Social Commentary of growing up a woman in the later half of 20th century to now, and all that means, personally, and in society at large in these times, how can we all do better in the times to come, and how are we changing that now. This one has about 12 openings that I really need to find the through line to piece them all together. This is the most consuming, and most difficult writing of my life. It's wrenching, and also amusing stuff; striking the balance is key.

Screenplays I started are taking the back row of this production bus for the time being. Of them there are three, and to mix metaphors, which is apt, they need to stew a bit longer with the lid on anyway.

Now to the business end, nuts and bolts:

Our printer is defunct. I am a very hands-on writer and editor, lines and margin notes work for me, having drafts to scribble on works for me. My laptop is slower than molasses, about five years old, and is beast to get anything done on. That's two major pieces of equipment that need replacing. Especially now that I am knuckling down to finish multiple projects, it would be infinitely easier to do so. My goal by the end of this year is to put out into the world, a poetry collection and a short story collection; possibly one of the children's books, and to make good headway into the memoir. I really need to replace the printer and laptop to make that part happen.

I have a patreon site I haven't set up yet, because it felt disengenuous when I had all these loose threads dangling. I'm almost feeling like I can get things going there, but not quite yet.

I recently set up a Ko-fi site. It's a start toward replacing equipment. Every little bit helps, and if you'd like to help out, you can donate a $3 "coffee" there, and share my link with friends and other artists through social media. I am eternally grateful to those few who have already donated, and will be eternally grateful if you'd help spread the word.

Thank you. Or send people to my Welcome page where there's a Kofi button, or my links page, where you can also buy a copy of Felix the Comet! if you'd like a signed one, I still have a few copies on hand, please email me from the Contact page in the header.

I'm in a much better place now as I work on these projects than I was even a year ago. I am puttering away daily on some writing, editing, and organization of the projects. You can really help me work more effectively, and faster to get my work out into the world.

Thanks for stopping by,


updated: 1 month ago

Missiles at Dawn

Missiles at Dawn

Living close to a weapons testing area

not far from Camp Lejeune can be

interesting. Sometimes the air pops

and eventually I know it’s not a rowdy

neighbor by how the corn settles

into a practiced rhythm.

Sometimes it’s quite loud. The house

shakes, and I wonder if this might be it.

I think they’re testing land mines.

This morning, I learned the fft-whoosh

of missiles at dawn is nothing like the movies.

Now I will recognize it

before one hits our house.

Is this a poem?

I have broken up the lines.

Or shall I just sit and wonder

how soon this preparation is for?

updated: 4 months ago

To puppy or not to puppy and writing

Pants not required for writing when have pets

Pants not required for writing when one has pets.

After much hilarity and drama, it appears that Sunni-D has done the 11% percent thing and pulled a “canine fetal re-absorption” move. Google it, it’s wild. We were actually looking forward to and preparing for puppies, and I had four takers to adopt among friends. Alas, puppies were not to be, but spaying is imminent.

Meanwhile, school started for kid, and we attended two weddings far afield in the beginning of October, from which I am still recovering. I’m not sure how much I have spoken here about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, but it affects a lot, and writing is affected when I over do it. The travels were worth it, but I’m just now slowly getting my brain back.

I have finally figured out in my recovery from above, that over the last handful of years, as I abandoned a handful of larger projects, I side wrote several short monster stories of feminism, social norms turned inside out. You know, when men and women interact, then things go sideways into other realms.

My current project is editing and finishing those into a collection. I’m assuming at the moment that I will self-publish, unless something comes up, submissions these would fit.

I hope you’re enjoying your fall, and that you are safe and well with all that is going on in the world.

Thanks for stopping by.


updated: 4 months ago

Of Neighbors, Dogs, and Fences

Of Neighbors Dogs and Fences

I used to blog about balancing writing and family life with special needs at when we lived in Virginia. My life has always had a bit of a wild hilarity in the mix. I wanted this website to be more about writing projects in its focus, but I am who I am, and my life is mayhem.

We moved two cats with us to North Carolina. We were dogless since the passing of our Lucy a handful of years earlier. We fostered and adopted a dog when we got to this house 2 years ago. Buddy is a schnauzer/Yorkshire terrier mix, in the parlance of designer mutts, he’s a snorky. He barks a lot and is the goofiest looking little dog, put together wrong, and his coat is scraggly. Much of the time I call him Scrufflupagus. He had kidney failure as we fostered him, and we paid the transfusion and other emergency vet fees, so the humane society waived our adoption fee.

He loves people, hates other dogs. Or as we are learning, doesn’t entirely understand how to be a dog with other dogs. He acts like he’s going to tear the throat out of a German Shepherd if we take him to the park. He weighs between thirteen and sixteen pounds. Then there was the incident with a neighbor’s big dogs when my twenty year old was walking him last fall. They downed and dragged the old guy, including a concussion, and fully attacked Buddy in my son’s arms. They were much bigger and tossed him around in their mouths like he was stuffed toy. Another expensive vet bill and animal control involved, that neighbor’s kid no longer comes to the house to play with our daughter. Not because we said.

We tried to name Buddy something else because I call everyone and everything buddy, but the name he came with stuck. It took a while for the cats to get used to Buddy. He enjoyed chasing them until each said enough of that. Buddy is now three. We think he lived alone with an elderly women for his first year. At his adoption, they said he came to them when his owner was moved into a facility. He didn’t eat dog food unless we added cheese to it. Andrew, the kids, and I discussed getting another dog to try to socialize him. But since we moved here, I had surgery on a broken with torn ligaments ankle and am still healing, if I’ll ever heal properly from that. I have other physical issues due to a genetic condition and a car accident, that make it difficult enough to walk Buddy. He’s a perfect lap dog, and sometimes he has a lot of energy. Since we have been here, the cats are now indoor/outdoor.

We have pet doors from the house to the screened in porch and to the five foot fenced yard. It’s a good sized patch on the last country dirt road in our little shrimp and flounderman turned touristy beach town. Buddy barks at everything that moves in our windows or outside our fence. Sometimes he rockets out the front door, but he’s usually comically easy to retrieve by opening a vehicle door, and saying, “let’s go for a ride!” But he’s onto us now.

Where my spouse works is a dog friendly environment. Honestly, the woods around the complex spit out dogs that hunters leave behind on a fairly regular basis. One tree hound is now the office mascot. Co-workers regularly adopt these otherwise well-trained dogs. A few months ago, Andrew texted me that a young guy he works with walked up to him and thrust a smallish dog into his arms, saying, “she’s yours now. We can’t handle her with the babies and our dog.”

I texted back: you know you shouldn’t have texted me.

And then he texted back: I know, but look at her, with a picture.

His coworker knows a sucker when he sees one. All the dogs that people bring into the building eventually wind up in Andrew’s office, even if they go home at the end of the day. So we adopted Sunni-D, “Sunny with an I!” named by the kids. I called the vet for an appointment even before he brought her home. It took an intensive 4 days of separate crates and taking one out at a time, during which we had human guests. We thought Buddy was going to kill her. On the fourth day, we let them out together and let them run around the yard, come what may. They tussled a bit, then got used to each other. Buddy watched how insanely needy and high-strung she is, and calmed right down over that first week or so. He still barks at the circling vultures, wind in the trees, and frogs on the screens, but has calmed down a lot. He gets it now, how nutty he acted.

All of this is just by way of introduction to the mayhem of the last 24 hours, onto Sunni and the current mayhem. She’s a little love of a beagle, and we think miniature pinscher, in mutt breeder parlance, a meagle. She’s alert at all times, if not actively running around. She has one endearingly floppy ear. It took the vet and I a couple of appointments to find she wasn’t microchipped - the young man who handed her to Andrew had stolen her from his neighbor’s abuse - was still quite puppyish, and she had what looked like could have been a spay scar, so we waited it out.

She went into estrus. Blood spots everywhere. This is what I’ve been dealing with for the past two weeks. Buddy is neutered, but she’s turned him into a little horn dog. I separate them at least four times a day. We have another elder neighbor on the corner who has four dogs, two little chihuahuas, one a black rough, the other a yellow smooth. They bark at and chase every car that comes up the entry street to ours, but largely return to their yard after they get it out of their system. The other two are a brown and white hound type, and an old yellow lab mix. We refer to the yellow lab as George’s Dog. He gets out from his eight foot tall enclosure all the time, no collar. My son usually walks him back when our dogs bark at him wandering in front of the house. Everyone in our little neighborhood is resigned to the fact of George’s Dog being loose and exploring. “There goes George’s Dog again.”

Well, usually our two dogs and one of the cats sleep in our bed with us. Two mornings ago, Buddy and Sunni leapt up and were barking like crazy at about four forty-five in the morning, in the living room. I don’t move so well or quickly, so Andrew got up to see what was going on, and there was George’s Dog fully engaged in sexual congress with Sunni - in the livingroom. Buddy was barking his face off at him, but seems to have finally figured out that he is, in fact, a tiny dog, so was not attacking George’s Dog. It was more like, “hey man, that’s my girl, get offa her!”

Andrew managed to separate them and get George’s Dog out of our house and yard. Then went about his usual get to work routine after closing up the house again. I spent yesterday separating the usual two, and George’s Dog was wandering outside the front of the house around dinner time again, so son brought him back to George. Last night, we crated the dogs, we closed the pet door into the house, and hoped for the best. They weren’t happy about the new arrangement, and we think both cats were in the house for the night. This morning, Andrew’s alarm went at his usual five forty-five, and the dogs started their usual run for the yard to do their morning business. They barked more than usual, Andrew went to see, and there was George’s Dog inside our locked and fenced in backyard waiting to court Sunni-D like a Cameron Crowe movie without the boombox serenade.

Son walked George’s Dog back to George’s house, who shrugged and apologized. We need to find out if he’s fixed, now that it’s a more reasonable hour and all of us humans aren’t contending with the barking mayhem while half-asleep.

Tempus fugit

Since writing above, I showered and came out to hearing our dogs barking out the front. No one knows how they got out. They must have seen George’s Dog climb our fence, and followed suit. I checked the gates and fence, no holes or slip points. Our little dogs have far more launchability than an old lab. This doesn't bode well for containing my usual mayhem at its prior level.

We have since found the breach, the crawlspace under the house has a couple of cracks in the critter barrier.


Meanwhile, I have been working on a larger project that appears to be breaking into smaller, separate ones. Sometimes writing is a lot like corralling a pack of wild dogs and cats, and it makes puppies and kittens, short stories and poems. While I have been quiet here, note all of the above.

updated: 8 months ago

piano ghosts

 piano ghosts


It's been a little while. I did finish the story for the anthology deadline with revisions, and I'm pretty happy with it. Then I had writer's block by a few contributing factors, and my ten year old daughter got bit by the writing bug for fanfic of a series she's reading. For at least a decade, 10 year old girls have gone crazy for the Warrior series. It's a Nancy Drew prolific series of series, but a Watership Down of cats, plot-wise. I was a bit envious of how easily the creative process came for her.

Last week, one of the block factors began to crack, and this poem happened. I've given a bit of spit and polish to it, and I'm a little more pleased than with the stream of conscious version that poured out of the crack. People who have seen the SOC version seem to like it. Even after revision, I think it still needs a little more musicality. In my experience, if my gut is telling me to put it out there no matter what doubts I may have, it's time to throw it out on stage with jazz hands. So here it is, enjoy:

Ghosts in the Piano

In the end,
We were given a piano
from the widower
of a piano teacher.
We showed up ready to buy it
but he refused when he heard my mother played,
And my sons play, and my daughter wants to play.
His wife had passed away around the same time.
He couldn’t bear to keep it in the house.

He stored it at neighbors who agreed to sell it for him.
The woman told me stories of her gentle friend
teaching students with autism,
and declared that she and my mother must have
put their heads together in heaven to put us together.
The widower refused to take our money.

The old Wurlitzer has been in our house for months now,
I’m just getting around to cleaning it.
The smell of piano wire and old wood,
dust, ivory, and leather have been
filling our house.
Stickers label the keys worn most from middle C to the least -
out the keyboard, the end keys still mostly legible and white.
I’ve been wanting to peel them off.
I’m peeling them off,
the clean ones are easiest to lift.
The left hand middle G is worn straight through.
Its ink-stained ivory tells me the stories of thousands of fingers who have played.
Some dancing, some plodding until hopefully,
they danced.

My mother’s ghost is happy to hear me bang on it.
I was never good at lessons, but would slowly
teach myself songs I liked, or I’d sit,
a melancholic kid who picked and poked at minor progressions
when bored, then banged on the keys, not unlike Mom’s tarantellas and boogies,
but maybe tunelessly moody.

Now I listen to my children the way she may have listened to us
from other rooms.
One plays the same song over and over,
little another makes stuff up.
The first who visits now and then
just plays what he writes on the fly.
Is that a song by someone else, yours, or are you just noodling?
Just noodling, but there’s a little something to work with.
If I talk, he stops and walks away,
like I did when she talked to me.

As I clean it now, swiping a paper towel with a gentle cleaner along the keys,
I hear myself cleaning Mom’s baby grand,
I hear the echoes of her boogies and tarantellas.
I hear the old teacher in the smell of the piano wires, old wood,
leather, and ivory, and
ghosts of my grandmothers, and all of her students,
my cousins banging on my grandmother’s,
as the ghosts of the thousand sticky fingers are washed off each key.
Finally, I play, awkwardly, never very good,
and the ghosts around me dance.

1st draft
Revision 11.19.2018

I'd love to hear from readers, please feel free to contact me through my Contact page.

Be good to yourself and have an extra helping of pie on Thursday.

Thanks for stopping by,

updated: 1 year ago

It's right there, just write it

It039s right there just write it

should be simple, right?

I've been working on a short story to an anthology deadline for a couple of weeks. I have essentially two scenes left, tops three, depending how you quantify them. I can see them. They are how the story started in my head, and what made me think this anthology submission would be perfect for this. I have now tinkered with all the writing and edits prior to those crux scenes as much as I can possibly tinker... and still they are difficult to write. What's that old quote? Oh yeah, Hemingway. Well, we all know how he turned out.

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."

The kid is finally back to school now the district has reopened since Hurricane Florence, and the one who has moved back home after a year away has some things in the works to go back to school in January... as long as he finishes that process, but seeing how well that is going for me, and knowing how he struggles under pressure, I'm crossing my fingers and trusting he's doing it.

I need to do the same for myself, trust that I have this. I mean, IT'S RIGHT THERE in my noggin, I have notes. What is stopping me? Well, the material is hard stuff, stuff I have spent my life in the practice of avoiding or circumventing if it can be at all. This is how I know telling this story right now is worth it.

I seem to have this block issue a lot in writing, putting my characters through difficult stuff. Well, I know she comes out the other side well, because I ALREADY WROTE THAT!

Okay, now that is out of my system.... time to face those paragraphs, and my own demons.

Thanks for stopping by, and until I am done,


updated: 1 year ago



If this is the worst for us, and some yard waste, we are incredibly grateful.

My goal with this blog is to post about writing process every couple of weeks. The time table is to hold myself accountable to keeping on track in writing, and to not overtalk process, thereby writing myself out of the main writing which I'd rather be writing.

Well, life and hurricanes happen, and it's been a month. Our house is still standing, I don't think we "house guests and fish-ed" our way out of our evacution hosts' family. Sadly, many of my neighbors and community have trees in their roofs, or beach or rivers and sewage washed into the rest of their homes or businesses. School is still out for our district and it's taking a routine toll on our family, but we are home, all is well for us. We survived. The community is strong and cleaning up as quickly as possible. Beach access is off-limits, but the little park where I walk along the Intracoastal is cleaned up and open, and there is no longer a curfew or limited access to Topsail Island. The dunes are no longer in the streets, but still being repaired.

With that out of the way, I'm going to once again thank the handful of readers who contacted me through the contact page to buy a signed copy of Felix the Comet. I still have about two dozen copies of the first printing taking up a shelf in my house and mental room in my brain. I would love to send you a copy, too, signed to you, or for a kid or teacher you know, around 4th-7th grade. I'm cleaning house, not making any money on it, $10 a copy covers printing and shipping and handling. I'm moving on in writing. Felix is a great little companion to have in my brain, but I feel like he and his friends want to grow up and move on, too.

Now for the writing:

I had been mulling working on existing projects that won't let go, started years ago in some cases, but with news being what it is lately, I found myself stymied to write after we settled back in and cleaned up the yard. Then I had a stroke, or maybe a few, and maybe that's an overstatement that shouldn't be joked about, but I had a stroke of conscious and began a story that may be story, may be a novella, may be something bigger, and it's a woman's story of what it is like to live in these times. One woman's story, and regardless of who you support in the current news, I think any woman could relate to this story, has lived aspects of it, knows what it is like to be a woman now, or in the last fifty years. I hope I'm adding a surprise twist in it, still a work in progress. Another for the cohort.

Thanks for stopping by.

Be well, be safe, and be kind to yourself.

Until next post,


updated: 1 year ago

Florence and the Writer

Florence and the Writer

looking eastward from my backyard, so far, so good.

I've spent my whole life on the East Coast of the US. The sea gives me life. When Hothouse Flowers came out with their song Good for You, that opens, "I spent my life watch sky and sea change color, hypnotized by the beauty of it all" I cried. It was my life. Yeah, I'm a big sap.

So, I have a bit of experience with hurricanes. My family moved from a block away from Long Island Sound, inland and up a hill, after a small hurricane when I was seven years old. A few decades later, that house was destroyed by Sandy. My father still lives in the house we moved to in '73. I do not seem to follow his good perspective, and moved within reach of the major Hurricane Alley trajectory at this stage in my life. Florence is about to hit 2 miles from my house we moved into a year ago. I thought it was far enough from shore, but now, I know I am in mandatory evacuation zone for above a Cat 3. Florence is currently looking like a Cat 4-5. It's Monday, She's due Thursday, pregnant with the swirling central Atlantic.

We bought plywood for the windows, but my husband's job has amped production before the storm hits, somewhat because of the storm, maybe, but also the nature of his business. It's his business, I won't go into here. This blog is about writing. Somehow, my 20 year old son and his broke down old mother need to get it hung over the windows. I'm checking in with the neighbors today.

We are in deep hurricane prep, and I have had an invitation to evacuate my family to another writer's house, further inland. Check out her work! Christa Miller writes across genres and recently published the first book in a series for kids about raccoon rescue from the perspective of the raccoons. My daughter loved it! so did I. She also writes great dark cross genre fantasy, crime, mystery stories, and novellas.

Speaking of children's books, again, thanks to those who bought mine recently. I still have some on hand to let go of, and would love to sign and send them to you, a teacher, or student of around 4th-7th grade. Please email me through my contact page, I'm selling them at cost plus shipping, not making anything from it myself. I'm cleaning house is all.

Wish my family luck that Florence turns back out to sea before she makes landfall, or we may be going on a grand adventure. And so will Christa, because my family is mayhem.

updated: 1 year ago

Heading into Fall

Heading into Fall

This could belong to you, a teacher's classroom, or a child you know!


I have one kid left going into school this fall. Fall is a relative term here, as she is starting in August, and the Equinox isn't for another month. I don't know if this is a particularly southern thing, or farming thing. When I grew up in Connecticut, we always started after Labor Day, and that made much more sense to say Fall, at least it was the same month in name. My boys did so, too, in our Massachusetts days.

This is neither here nor there, except to say life moves on, and I get caught in the current, no matter my good intentions to write daily. May that be more possible once the house is a bit quieter. I'm crossing my fingers and toes. I have also opened up a few old manuscripts and started to poke around.

Thanks again to everyone who bought books I have on hand, signed and delivered. I still have about 15 left and to restate, I will happily sign and send them to you or a child or teacher for a classroom for the low price of $10 per book, to cover printing and shipping costs. I am making nothing on this. I am just clearing them out of my house, to make headroom to write anew. It's a fun tale of social negotiations of a 6th grader who loves science, his friends, family, and dog and runs into trouble with a new kid in town. Target audience is a good third grader reader up.

Please note I have added buttons for easy sharing on Twitter and Facebook!

I still think of this time of year as the beginning, after my own school years and a couple of decades in education profession.

Happy turning of the season!


updated: 1 year ago

Away we go

Away we go

hm, which one first?


Firstly, thank you to those of you who bought copies of Felix the Comet through me so far! I still have some copies on hand that I would love to sign for a student, teacher, or you! Please email through my Contact page if you'd like to park one in a 4th-7th grade classroom for the new school year, signed! It's a fun story of friendship and negotiating social miasma at 12 with a little science thrown in. If you run into an error message in Contact, you can DM me in Twitter or Facebook. So far, things seem to be working well since the webpage redesign.

Secondly, in my writing career reboot since (see my last couple of blogs) my big life transitions, I am digging back into projects for editing and rewriting. I left off another children's book a few years back, a fantasy that was becoming a can of worms I couldn't contain. I didn't have plot bunnies, as they say, I had plot elves, centaurs and Chthulus. I am opening that back up again. I am also taking another dive into the recent fantasy-horror short I wrote in a rush to a deadline where it didn't get accepted. Working toward a deadline was a good jumping point to exercise my atrophied writing muscles. It's a good little story, just needs to be cleaned up.

One tool that works for me as I edit is to print the project out and break out colored pens. I can slash lines more easily that need to be cut, and rewrite in margins and page backs. Yes, I know great software programs exist for that now, but I'm an old dog who likes her old tricks. My brain works tactilely as well as visually. My handwriting is a mess but it helps me process mentally much better to write things out. Then when I go back into the digital version, I rewrite what I can't read in my handwriting, and usually third time is the charm.

Do you write or are you another type of creative, visual, music, performance? I'd love to hear from you how your process works. We can talk through my Contact Page.

Happy mid-August,


updated: 1 year ago

Welcome to my new look!

I think this better reflects where I am now in life and writing. Please take a look around the home and about pages.

Initially, this website reflected the look of my first book, with Melissa Gay’s ( beautiful artwork. And it was exactly what I wanted, for a time.

Among the many changes mentioned in the previous blog post, I have reached a point where I am ready to say goodbye to all the great things that Felix the Comet gave me. I took a great ride with those characters for many years through the writing and publishing, and I may still have some love for a second book in that world, centered around his friend Kelsey. I have an incomplete manuscript that I believe clocks in around 40k words so far, but I haven’t opened that in a few years. It may not be time yet. It may never be time to finish that. Sadly, that is the nature of writing sometimes. Even the best of ideas can fall off a cliff and live better in oblivion.

Part of that big goodbye to Felix and his friends is to say goodbye to a small stash of copies I have in my house. So here is a ONE TIME ONLY offer of a limited number of books. I will happily sign them to you, or a child you want to give a copy to, or to a classroom. First come, first serve, when I run out, that’s the end of this offer. Please email me through this website on the contact page. We will set up payment and I’ll get your address. I will amend this post to announce when I am sold out. I am offering them at $10 a copy, simply to defray printing and shipping costs.

Meanwhile, Felix the Comet is still available for digital orders and in paperback through my Links page.

I’m happy to be writing again, in different areas. I have one project I’m going to peek back into that is more of a fantasy story for the same middle reader age group, and a few more things I’m keeping quiet for now. I do have a recently completed cross-genre fantasy-horror story that is ready to shop around to magazines or collections.

Thanks for clicking!

Peace and Beaches,


updated: 1 year ago