I’ve been writing since before I could talk. Or, at least, that’s how it seems
Growing up I talked way too much. It was the one thing both my parents and teachers always complained about. My grandma used to sneak teaspoonfuls of brandy into my mouth when I was still very young so that I would shut up in the hopes that maybe she’d get a good night’s sleep.
I never actually really learned to shut up.
Just learned to take everything I wanted to say to the page instead.
My love affair with the written word is long, torrid and well documented.
As a child, I’d spend my weekends making books. Yes, actually making, as in writing-drawing-binding, books. It didn’t really matter what kind. Newspapers, comics, collections of short stories. I’d scribble anything that came to mind on notebook paper and then staple the pages together.
Before I knew it, I had a stack of books.
The original self publishing.
In junior high, I graduated to writing melodramatic novels in tattered composition notebooks. They were a hit with my classmates though, and we all spent more time reading the newest installments than we did actually paying attention to our lessons.
Since then, I’ve had stories published in anthologies such as Lust Chronicles and The Mile High Club and my musings have appeared in publications such as the Huffington Post and The Frisky.
My early writing was mostly centered on naughty things but I’ve since entered the twisted world of thrillers. Currently, I’m putting the finishes touches on my debut novella, White Rabbit, which will be out this November.
I live in Brooklyn, New York with my husband Jason, and my cat, Snarf.
I’m a passionate lover of books, Scrabble, and cats. I also really like french fries, Indiana jones movies, ice cream, and Vin Diesel. In that order.
This is my place, my little corner of the internet where I write about writing, my books, books I’m reading, movies, and travel.