I was born and raised in the Lakes region of NH, in the shadows of the great White Mountains on my grandfather's dairy farm. Not only was grandpa a farmer but he was also a writer for the Mountain Media. He was also a very proud Abenake Indian/French mix. He taught me to write and to love nature and all it's spiritual and physical beauties. He was tragically killed when I was 13 leaving me in a deep depression I thought would never end.

My other grandfather was a master carpenter. Although he died before I was born, my dad taught me all he had learned from him about carpentry and his proud Italian heritage. I went to college and then got into my other love, real estate, only to find a clique of liars. The 90% of lying real estate agents tried to butter it over by calling it puffing. I would have none of it and since I was in the 10% of honest agents I just couldn't survive so I got out and looked for greener pastures so to speak.

I then found myself in the clothing industry selling high end clothing. I also found myself marrying a drug addict and becoming his 'slave'. I had fallen to my lowest point. I hated my job, I hated my husband and I hated myself. I wanted out and I got that chance at the end of my ex's gun. I called 911 and he went on probation for domestic violence. I bought the most haunted and cheapest house in town and tried to start over. My neighbors thought I was nuts to buy that house and took bets on how long I would stay. My ex sought revenge by taking my little girl away.

That is when Gary walked into my life. He accepted me for who I am. Accepted my odd house and loved my daughter like his own. My tall, dark, handsome night in shining armor. He helped me to rebuild my home and my confidence in myself. While clearing out my haunting past out of my haunted house we stumbled upon some of my published works. He asked why I had stopped writing. I had no answer, not for him or myself. I went back to college instead and got a residential design degree. It still didn't fit but the reconstruction of our haunted abode did feel very right.

Happy living in my 'scary' home, happy with my new husband and toting a new baby I should have felt happy but I was unfulfilled somehow. That is when I found www.associatedcontent.com and began writing under my grandfather's pen name, doc of district 13. Soon I found www.helium.com and then a publisher called. Somehow, this feels right so here I am, still in the most haunted house in town, living out my dream.

Creative Writing > Memoirs Growing up gardening: My most amazing gardening memory

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Late Summer in New England brings with it the songs of the crickets and thoughts of the long cold months shortly forthcoming. For farmers late summer also means bringing in the harvest and battening down the farm in preparation for the hardships that New England's harsh winters can bring.

It was just such a late summer afternoon that I found myself walking down the dusty lane, past our weather worn barn. Beside me my grandfather whistled a tune I couldn't recognize but found oddly soothing anyhow. At the bar way grandpa lifted up the wooden planks allowing us to pass into the field ...

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