Words on Waking

I was gently reared in rural Kentucky by hard-working God-fearing parents, children of the depression, who were determined that their offspring would have the educational advantages they did not. The youngest of three children, I was born asking “why”. When the answers were not forthcoming or satisfying, I grew restless. My college career took me beyond my parent’s safe boundaries of church and learning a trade. They frantically and ineffectively tried to put the toothpaste back in the tube. I left home at seventeen, and while I never had an urge to go back, the roots of my rearing always manage to push through the hard rocky soil of all my words and deeds.

In retrospect I suppose I have lived a restless life although it never seemed so as events unfolded. I have lived in Lexington Ky, Washington DC, New York, San Francisco, Richmond Virginia and most recently in Denver CO. My husband and I have traveled extensively through Europe and especially enjoy spending time in the Mini Pyrenees region of France.

I have always been compelled to write, most frequently in the quiet hours of the morning, for I am a lark living among owls. For years I scribbled words in notebooks, on envelopes, on scraps of paper that I left scattered about. Much of that is lost to me now through many moves and changes in my life. Finally, in 2004 my oldest son handed me a URL for blogspot. The medium gave me an audience, opened the eyes of my soul, and allowed me to grow both as a writer and a person. I started several more, readership grew, and writing consumed more and more of my time. I submitted a few short pieces for publication. The first time I actually got paid for one I realized my hobby might be something more.

Up to  2020 I resisted the urging of friends and family to “write a book”, but when strangers started telling me the same I finally decided to commence. When COVID struck the country and I was stuck at home I could no longer say I didn’t have time, so I sat down and did it. My first book is a work of fiction, historical fiction to be exact, something very different from my former habit of telling true remembrances. It is based on a family scandal that came whispered down the generations for more than 100 years. The main character, Lydia, is a construct of that real person, other women that lived during the time frame, and a bit of me. It is getting some good reviews and has encouraged me to keep writing. Look for a stand alone book about the next generation after Lydia within the next year. Working title “Motherless Child”, subject to change as the character speaks to me. Stay tuned

Perhaps the real me, age 5 in my backyard in Beaver Dam Ky