My Words Fly Up


My mother was a teacher. Her mother was a teacher. And her mother was a teacher. Small surprise that when I was a child and people asked me if I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up, I emphatically said no. Then, long after I had grown up to become an editor and

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Be Social


In which I blog about the days I write and the days I don’t write; about teaching about writing; about reading (which is never enough); and occasionally about music, because sometimes a three-minute song can tell as good a story as a novel.

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