I love all things French. The people, the language, driving through the countryside and mysteriously winding up in Luxembourg.

I write my first drafts by hand. I like the tactile feedback of pen on page.

I have a desk obsession. I am down to four now, one is in the attic. Trying to cut down.

I read so fast I never have enough books so I have to write them too.

I am so bad at returning library books, and the fines get so big, it’s cheaper for me to buy books new. The local library has a wanted poster with my picture on it.

My mom always made sure I had pen, paper, a desk of my own, and lots of books to read. But when it was time to do the dishes, I’m writing was not considered an excuse, though she did laugh and say nice try.

I actually started school at four, not five, if you count Kindergarten. If you don’t five is fine.  I was utterly desperate to learn to read, to get away from home, and have big adventures out in the wide world. I could not get away fast enough, and I was always the kid who wanted to grow up fast. I spent many hours up in my favorite tree reading, for two reasons. One is I was engrossed in a book, and the other because though I could climb up I could not climb down. I am afraid of heights. I usually took a sandwich and a book and if I did not show up for dinner my mother sent my big brother out to find me and bring me in. He did this by pushing on the bottoms of my feet until I fell out of the tree. He was the best of brothers, and always caught me before I hit the ground.

I started my first novel in the fifth grade, and have been writing novels since. I write the stories I wish someone would write for me.

I get up early, I like to write in the morning, after coffee, yoga, and training with my dog, Leah. She has a lot to teach me.

I write half the day, then go to work on feedback and zoom conferencing with the writer’s that I am mentoring and teaching. Leah wanders into my office at regular intervals to get me outside — going for walks, throwing a ball. She does not like me to spend too long at my desk. I would like to tell you that when I am done with work, I am out working on my Tango, canoeing level zero rivers and streams, and throwing paint on a canvas while music plays in the background. But it would be a damn lie. I am toast by the end of the day. I put on a pair of ancient worn out Levi’s, pile my hair on my head, and take Leah for a ramble. Then I open a bottle of wine and cook and curl up. I will be bingeing Netflix or reading a book until I fall asleep.

On the weekends I don’t like a schedule but it usually comes down to brunch, farmer’s market, antiquing, movies, and an extraordinary amount of time spent at gardening centers. When I travel, I do the exact same thing except in other countries. I hope to curl up and read a book in every city in France.

If you say something witty, I’m going to steal it for my book.