I live in the wholesome Midwest with my husband, who is a wonderful and talented chef, my 2-year-old son, who is well on his way to becoming the world's funniest stand-up comic, and my two huge drooly and excessively rowdy dogs.

I work as a nurse, as well as a nursing instructor. I've been writing since childhood, when my mother required me to make daily entries in my diary in order to earn my allowance. I've written several children's picture books, but never attempted to publish them due to the daunting competition in that genre.

I began having more faith in my writing while undertaking my master's degree. Critical writing was an integral part of the curriculum, and I became adept at writing evidence-based essays and reports on a variety of subjects. When I began teaching, I was able to utilize that experience doing content revision and curriculum development for the college.

I love all aspects of the writing process, and am now hoping to expand my literary craft to encompass joyful, inspirational writing that will uplift the hearts and minds of millions! However, I'll settle for a hundred or so if they love reading my material as much as I love writing it.

My passion is ...

learning

I know too much about ...

changing diapers

My parents always told me ...

the sky is the limit

My childhood ambition ...

to be rich

My favorite memory ...

family vacations

Why I write ...

expression

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

anything by james patterson

My first job ...

telemarketing...I shudder to think

My best moment ...

my son's laughter

My inspiration ...

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Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Death of a child

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The day my son died dawned bright and cloudless, the crisp air of early March whispering taunts of spring. He had been born nine days earlier; nine weeks before his time. We named him Keegan, and fell in love with him the second he was conceived. He was born healthy, albeit quite small. He was only slightly longer than the soft blue beanie baby we put in his incubator to keep him company amongst the wires and tubes. Every day there were celebrations over the "small" things in his little space of the neonatal intensive care unit. He had been weaned from the ventilator; he had begun tak...

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