Musings

As a writer, my memories and emotions influence my fiction. What's more, I liken being a fiction writer to being a method actor.

Skyward: Memories of childhood become faded things. Sometimes the details escape us. So, we fill them in with our imagination.

Cana is a town nestled somewhere in the California wine country. It’s 1945 and to visit there, one must travel winding roads.

I have a new found love for writing poetry despite adamantly declaring, "I'm not a poet," for years.

I have boxes of keepsakes and in these boxes are talismans evoking the memories and stories related to a particular place and time.

Since that first living room concert one Sunday during the Pandemic, music has been the way to my heart.

On that particular day, I was on the city bus on the way home from school playing the “what if” game... This is the day I met Paolo.

I love the ocean. I revel in the sound of the waves sweeping to shore. The sound sometimes loud enough to drown out all others.

Silence is a muteness, an absence of sound, a stillness, something or someone fading to oblivion—and secrecy.

The Nature of Doors. Perhaps some doors never fully close even when new ones open.

My favorite room faces the south at the front of the house. The walls are all painted a non-descript beige and lend to it a quiet demeanor.

The characters I least expect to hear, sometimes talk the loudest and demand their stories be told.

The Scent of Coffee. As a writer, I rely on the sense of smell to enrich a scene and help make the storytelling all that much deeper.

When I was kid, I collected unicorns—trinkets, books, and pictures. In fact, like most children, I was enthralled by anything magical.

In July 1977, my brothers treated me to a movie and those events cemented my love for Space Opera.

When I'm writing, music sets the stage and shows me history in a very active way. With it, I travel through time, and I’m immersed.

Music and books go together like two sides of the same coin. I could not have one without the other. Each book I write has a soundtrack.

This is the story of how my sister handed me a book and I fell in love with a whole genre.

I've discovered so much in the world of books and stories. There are those that I’ve wished I hadn’t read so I could experience them again.

One moment I’m eating my late breakfast, the next my mind is envisioning the haunted gravel road that leads up to the Clemente Vineyard.