: About Me

I'm a Native Floridian, though I have traveled outside of the state and country to discover that there is life beyond palm trees, beaches and snow-birds.

I've always loved to write ever since I could hold a pen. My mom always likes to tell others that I started writing my own books at age 4, and hasn't stopped since. While other kids in the neighborhood were out riding bikes and playing, I was in my room, writing novels, poetry and short stories. It's always been my passion.

I've digressed from that passion, regrettably, when I entered into adulthood, and was distracted for a bit by other things that accompany growing up - graduation, marriage, a home, etc. But I've never lost that affinity with writing, and I'm hoping to bring it back stronger than ever.

I'm married to a wonderful man, and we are the happy parents of one little Shih Tzu and one fat guinea pig. Life is good.

My passion is ...

my faith & writing.

I know too much about ...

other people.

My parents always told me ...

Be who you are, not what others want you to be.

My childhood ambition ...

to be a published writer / journalist.

My favorite memory ...

sitting at the beach, drinking in the sun and feeling the waves kiss my feet.

Why I write ...

to release everything pent up inside; to reach people; to enjoy.

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

The Man in the Iron Mask / CSI Las Vegas / Paramour

My first job ...

college math tutor.

My best moment ...

marrying my husband and forever friend.

My inspiration ...

my mother.

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Lonely

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Beach of Worn-Out Loves We line the resting-place of the sea, our forlorn stares scatter the sand. We're each an island in our own minds, heartache's too much to understand. Listen to the waves cry their salty tears and dig your feet in the tide. Allow the spray to cleanse your wounds and put the broken promises aside. We're just a beach of worn-out loves beaten down by empty dreams. And that's why we come here today, to cast our woes through sunlight's beams. Hear the cries of the gulls ricochet through your being. It joins our chorus of mournful tunes that can't stop seeing. Worn-out bod...

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