top of page


Growing up in Kane, Pennsylvania, a tiny town in the middle of the Allegheny National Forest, I assumed everyone watched men use chainsaws to make chairs out of tree stumps. While I didn't have many books as a kid, I now have more than one person probably should. 

I always felt that I wanted to work with words. I went to court reporting school, but writing down other peoples' words wasn't satisfying. In my late 40s, I started a journal when my grandmother passed. Story ideas started to take over. I found a story that Gram had written; she never told anyone. But at least I found out where my drive to write comes from!

At the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh
bottom of page