Starr Rathburn is a fiction writer with many interests. She is also the new Subchannel Steward for Short Stories at Helium. As far as being a steward goes, her strengths are in grammar and punctuation. Feel free to ask for help in these areas.

Her work has been seen in such diverse areas as haiku at USAToday online in 2002, contributing trivia for a contest at the Stephen King page for the SimonSays website, as well as poetry and a short story at BeWrite.net. One of her short stories was featured at Dog-eared Ezine. This led to an invitation to be the Ezine's horror editor, where she wrote several columns in 2003. Starr was invited to have a short story in the premiere issue of GrimGraffitti.com in 2007.

She's joined the mob at NaNoWriMo.org for several years, a site which encourages writers to create a novel within the thirty days of November. Starr generally writes short stories, family memoirs, and occasional non-fiction pieces.

Starr lives near Tampa, FL with her husband and teenager, where she reads and writes as much as she can. The family is very involved with Hui Na Akanes O Hawaii, which is the local Hawaiian Club.

A favorite quote:
"Do not write so that you can be understood, write so that you cannot be misunderstood."
- Epictetus

My passion is ...

my family

I know too much about ...

back pain

My parents always told me ...

Always put things back in the same place

My childhood ambition ...

To be a writer.

My favorite memory ...

Any memory of my dad.

Why I write ...

...to get that Writer's High!

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

Read: dark fantasy, detective, non-fic. Watch: Criminal Minds, Lost, Big Bang Theory.

My first job ...

waitress in a small restaurant

My best moment ...

looking at my husband for the first time.

My inspiration ...

The little voices in my head.

Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Death of a loved one

13 of 110

November Sorrow

-In memory of my favorite aunt

We entered the quiet house with the November wind. Aunt Bev's place felt altered, changed. We'd gathered for Thanksgiving, when it was always a home of joy. Now it was somber, dark, and bleak. Small groups of people huddled together, talking in hushed voices. Everyone turned to look at us as we entered, faces filled with sorrow for the emptiness that would soon be piercing our lives.

Gary moved forward to greet us. It'd been three years since I'd last been here, just before my wedding. Aunt Bev had been herself then; ...

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