In 1971, two months after graduating from college and getting married, Pete and I moved to Washington, DC. Our first address was a basement in Glover Park on a road called Tunlaw, walnut spelled backward. In order to enter our…Continue Reading →
My husband John Henry Herbert died at 4:38 AM. The hospice did not call me until after 7 with the news. I called JJ, our son, who took the Metro to East Falls Church, where I picked him up. At…Continue Reading →
In the winter of 2017, I signed on with Match.com. You may wonder: what possessed me? I had been a widow for over a year. Ours was a difficult marriage, yet John and I stayed together for over 36 years…Continue Reading →
Once upon a time we Delta Zetas lived under the same roof in that funny white house on Fifth Street in Greenville, NC. There we learned to use parachutes to cover the living room ceiling that was falling down. There…Continue Reading →
I tell my workshop writers not to outline. Outlines are intended to keep you focused, moving from one topic to another. But the creative writer needs to take the choke collar off his imagination, so it can wander. If writers…Continue Reading →
Our bed is verdant, The beams of our house are cedars Our rafters are firs My lover has gone down to his garden To gather lilies, still I am my lover’s and my lover is mine. Song of Solomon My…Continue Reading →
Yesterday would have been your 73rd birthday if you had lived. If you had lived: words that stop me. In your honor, your son and I had our first cookout at the new house. The day was unnaturally warm for…Continue Reading →
Thus far 2017 has been a bumpy ride. Last week I got some scary health news that thankfully resolved nicely. Almost simultaneously I got some wonderful news about my new novel, which I had entered in the Soul-Making Keats Literary…Continue Reading →
